


Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell

by Nefertiti_22002



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: First Time, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual revulsion based on childhood traumas (NOT sexual abuse or rape)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strict book-canon, to the extent that it can be, given how little Clarke tells us about the three week-period between Strange and Norrell being trapped in the Darkness and the mysterious departure of Hurtfew Abbey and the Darkness. I definitely, however, think of the TV actors (especially the fabulous Eddie Marsan as Mr Norrell) as the characters. The story begins with a slightly expanded quoted passage from the end of Chapter 68 and runs to just past the end of the book. There are two lines of action. First, the development of a romance between the two leads, with Mr Strange helping Mr Norrell to overcome his feelings of disgust about oral and anal sex; second, their exploration of the nature of the Darkness, their progress toward coping with everyday life under the circumstances, and their growing desire to move about the world(s) in Hurtfew Abbey using the Darkness.</p><p>Many thanks to my wonderful, encouraging beta, Sarah.</p><p>(January 28, 2017) I have gone on writing fics in the "Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell" universe: "The Toasts of Venice," "Books make perfect Christmas presents," and "Jonathan Stolen & Mr Norrell" (in which Jonathan is kidnapped by a lady Fairy and Mr Norrell must save him).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Settling into the Darkness

AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Mr Norrell sat down at the silver dish and began to work. After five minutes or so of patient labour he settled back in his chair with a sigh of relief. He turned to his companion and said, “Mr Strange! There is no sign of John Uskglass—nothing at all. But I have looked for Lady Pole and Mrs Strange. Lady Pole is in Yorkshire and Mrs Strange is in Italy. There is no shadow of their presence in Faerie. Both are completely disenchanted!”

Strange turned abruptly away, not replying. Mr Norrell sat feeling years of guilt easing away from him. He had gone against all his own principles in resurrecting Lady Pole and inadvertently causing her enchantment, and the lies that he had told to keep his involvement secret were ultimately part of what had driven him and Mr Strange apart. He was happy and rather puzzled to know that she was still alive, since it would have made more sense for her to revert to the state she had been in before he cast the spell that summoned the Fairy. There were many puzzling aspects to what had happened that evening.

“It is more than a little odd,” he said in a tone of wonder. “We have done everything we set out to do, but how we did it, I do not pretend to understand. I can only suppose that John Uskglass simply saw what was amiss and stretched out his hand to put it right! Unfortunately, his obligingness did not extend to freeing us from the Darkness. That remains.”

Mr Norrell paused. This then was his destiny!—a destiny full of fear, horror and desolation! He sat patiently for a few moments in expectation of falling prey to some or all of these terrible emotions, but was forced to conclude that he felt none of them. Indeed, what seemed remarkable to him now were the long years he had spent in London, away from his library, at the beck and call of the Ministers and Admirals. He wondered how he had borne it.

“I am glad I did not recognize the raven’s eye for what it was,” he said cheerfully, “or I believe I would have been a good deal frightened!”

“Indeed, sir,” said Strange hoarsely. “You were fortunate there! And I believe I am cured of wanting to be looked at! Henceforth John Uskglass is welcome to ignore me for as long as he pleases.”

“Oh, indeed!” agreed Mr Norrell. “You know, Mr Strange, you really should try to rid yourself of the habit of wishing for things. It is a dangerous thing in a magician!” He began a long and not particularly interesting story about a fourteenth-century magician in Lancashire who had often made idle wishes and had caused no end of inconvenience in the village where he lived, accidentally turning the cows into clouds and the cooking pots into ships, and causing the villagers to speak in colours rather than words—and other such signs of magical chaos.

At first Strange barely answered him and such replies as he made were random and illogical. But gradually he appeared to listen with more attention, and he spoke in his usual manner.

Mr Norrell had many talents, but penetration into the hearts of men and women was not one of them. Strange did not speak of the restoration of his wife, so Mr Norrell imagined that it could not have affected him very deeply.

Silence fell once more. Mr Norrell looked around the room and quickly gave up any notion of making a start at putting the books back in their places, tempting though that was. Each would have to be inspected for damage and set aside if there were repairs needed. He had seen some loose pages that would need to be reinserted in their respective books. It would take days, he thought happily. Days of handling them, cleaning them, lining them up neatly on his shelves, so that none was pushed in just a little too far or stuck out in front of the rest. He suspected that he would come across a few books that he had bought long ago and never read, and he would now have the pleasure of studying them at last.

He stood up and saw himself in one of the mirrors that so recently had displayed mysterious and disturbing visions. His wig had slid backward on his head, and the deeper cuts to his face were still bleeding. He pulled the wig forward and dabbed at the cuts with his handkerchief again. He turned to Strange, who was standing still, gazing down at the silver dish with a slight smile on his face. He seemed to have recovered from his fright at seeing the giant eye of the raven and looked positively peaceful. 

Mr Norrell said softly to him, “Time for bed, I think. I feel ready to drop, after all our efforts. So much has changed, and so suddenly! It is difficult to take it all in.” 

Strange raised his head to look at Mr Norrell, and his smile broadened. “Indeed it is, sir. Indeed it is. Like you, I cannot quite understand how our spell, which was intended as a simple greeting to John Uskglass, ending by freeing those trapped in Faerie, but it worked! It worked amazingly well! I can only assume that our nemesis, the Fairy whom we both so incautiously summoned, must be dead or somehow rendered harmless. Surely otherwise his first thought would be revenge upon us. But you should take care of those cuts.” Glancing into a mirror, he added, “Not surprisingly, I have quite a few myself, and I look fully as tired as you do.” 

Mr Norrell nodded and moved toward the door, but as he passed Strange, he suddenly threw his arms around the other magician and hugged him. Strange grinned and hugged the smaller man hard. For a moment they stood silently embracing, until Norrell pulled back, smiling in some embarrassment and blushing slightly. 

“I’m sorry, I was … carried away.” He raised his eyebrows and emphasized the last two words, making them sound as if they had quotation marks around them.

Strange smiled in return, partly in amusement that Mr Norrell should apologize for such a small thing. “Really, sir, why should you not be? Such tremendous achievements warrant a friendly hug.” He turned to leave and then faced Mr Norrell again. “By the way, is there a bedroom I could use? As far as I can tell, I shall be your guest for the indefinite future. I can hardly depart, given that I would have to drag you away from your library just when you have returned to it after such a long absence. And really, there is nowhere else for us to go.”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! That is, I think I can find one for you. I’m not really accustomed to …” He trailed off as he led the way into the wing of the house where his own bedroom was located. Two doors down the hall from it there turned out to be another large bedroom with a four-poster bed already made up. The fireplace was cold but laid with wood, and Strange assured Mr Norrell that he still had his tinderbox and could easily start a fire. The pair made a quick return trip to the kitchen to fill their respective pitchers with water. 

Standing outside Strange’s room before they parted, Mr Norrell remarked, “You must not think of yourself as a guest. Who knows when we will find the spell to banish the Darkness? You must consider yourself as much the master of this house as I. I don’t suppose I shall have to carry through on that old promise of mine, to give you a key to the library. We both know how to get there through ‘our’ labyrinth. Good night!”

Once in his bedroom, Mr Norrell walked toward the bed, automatically taking off his wig and putting it on its stand as he passed it. He poured some water into the basin, washing his face. Inspecting his cuts in the mirror, he decided that they were not serious enough to warrant further attention. He sat down and began to ponder what had just happened. That hug had revived feelings and thoughts that he had believed to be long banished from his life. When he was a boy, his uncle often told him that as he grew up he would find women attractive and that it would be his duty to marry and produce an heir to the large fortune that he would inherit. The attraction to women had never developed, and the uncle had died while Mr Norrell was still too young to seem odd in his reluctance to marry.

He had discovered physical arousal early on but somehow knew not to ask anyone about the strange changes that had happened to what he had only heard called “private parts.” His nurse had murmured these words in teaching him how to wash himself, and his doctor spoke them softly when he warned that he would be examining the boy “down there.” Eventually he discovered that touching his swollen member was pleasant, and once when he had stroked it a little longer than usual, the mounting sensations urged him to move his hand faster and squeeze harder until he experienced his first climax. He began to notice that such erections often resulted when he encountered handsome men or saw the nearly nude male figures in religious paintings in the village church. Such urges were strong enough that he satisfied his desires nearly every day.

Being by nature studious, the youthful Norrell tried to research what he suspected were taboo subjects. Eventually he learned that giving oneself that sort of pleasure was called “onanism” and that it was a sinful thing to do. Something else, far more mysterious, that two men did together was “sodomy,” but he could not find out anything more about what it consisted of. He had once resorted to asking the pastor of his church about the subject and had received a detailed and frightening description of the things that sinful men did with each other. He had long since decided that magic was far more interesting than what he read in the Bible and heard in church. The notion that these activities were sinful did not impress him much. Still, his pastor’s description of what men did together made it sound very nasty indeed. That idea and his general timidity had kept him from ever trying to find out about them for himself. Given his isolated life, there had not been much chance of it anyway. His sex drive remained strong, however, and he had resigned himself to relieving his own needs for the rest of his life.

Now, though, he had hugged a man for the first time in his adult life and had been shocked at how comforting and yet exciting it had been. He wished the embrace could have gone on and on. But Mr Strange is married, he reminded himself with a strict inner voice. He glanced ruefully into his lap, where, despite his exhaustion, a persistent bulge had formed in his trousers. With a sigh, he undressed, put on his nightshirt, night breeches and cap, climbed into bed, grasped a handkerchief and began to stroke himself slowly, a little smile on his face as he relived the hug over and over. He even began to fantasize a little about kisses and caresses. For many years he had frequently thought about Mr Strange when pleasuring himself, but now they had briefly pressed their bodies together. Not just a fantasy—a memory! His climax was, he thought, the most intense he had ever experienced. 

THE FIRST DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The next morning the two men tackled the formidable challenges of living alone in a large house surrounded by Eternal Darkness. 

First, they spent some time surveying the supplies on hand, especially those suitable for breakfast. They ventured out to the stable and chicken coop, with Mr Strange going ahead and keeping an eye out for mice or cats. They discovered that, although the carriage was still there, the horses were gone, as were the two donkeys and the goat that had served as companions for them. Mr Strange remarked, “I suppose that the servants took them along when they left, assuming that they would be in danger here in the Darkness. I am sure that Davey will make sure that they are well looked after.”

The chickens had not been removed, however, and there were eggs to be gathered. Fortunately Strange’s strict upbringing had included work around his father’s estate, and he quickly gathered the eggs and located some feed that he scattered in the pen. 

Second, once back in the house, they explored the well-stocked the pantry, where they found supplies of bacon, bread, butter, fruit, vegetables, and other food enough for several days. Mr Norrell and the others had arrived at Hurtfew three days before the Darkness descended on it, and the servants had purchased adequate fresh food for themselves as well as Mr Norrell and Mr Lascelles. The cellar was full of drying fruit and cured meat, sacks of flour, tubs of lard, and mysterious boxes and bins that they resolved to examine later. “Plenty of candles and lamp oil, I hope. We have a lot of reading to do,” Strange remarked cheerfully. Mr Norrell turned to smile at him, somewhat surprised to hear him sounding so optimistic about their prospects.

Back upstairs, they managed to contrive a reasonably traditional but very late breakfast, with Strange doing the cooking. As they sat sipping tea afterward, Mr Norrell remarked that he hoped they could obtain a cow. “I enjoy tea at other times of day, but I do prefer chocolate with breakfast. Cook seems to have forgotten to buy any for me.” He added thoughtfully, “I must say, I am rather surprised that John Uskglass left us under this enchantment when he freed the others—if that indeed is what happened. So little trouble for him and so much for us.”

Strange, under the influence of a good meal, a solid night’s sleep and the lingering effects of their triumph the day before, looked around contentedly and replied, “Perhaps he wanted to leave us together for a time, to resume our friendship and to consider all that we have done lately.” He paused and frowned, then said, “That giant eye at the end seemed to mean something, but what? That we have been found wanting in some way? Or maybe the opposite. After all, working together again at last, we managed splendid magic. But I suppose that, left on our own for a while, we could contrive even more impressive spells. Maybe that is what he intends us to do.”

Mr Norrell listened to him with mounting delight, though he realized that being alone with Strange might prove maddeningly distracting and highly frustrating. Yet reverting to his old way of life once they had banished the Darkness, with the servants and perhaps even Childermass back, seemed a far more dismal prospect if Mr Strange were not there with him. 

He asked tentatively, “But … surely you will want to return to your wife, and you can only do that if we find the spell to rid ourselves of the Darkness.” He had assumed that Strange was not terribly affected by the freeing of his wife, but he supposed that he would want to rejoin her. For some reason he had sent her to Italy, and perhaps the two of them would live there. Or possibly, it occurred to him, Mr Strange would suggest bringing her to live with them at Hurtfew! That seemed an intolerable situation, and yet surely it would be much better than losing Mr Strange altogether.

Mr Strange said, “If only I could communicate with her! I probably can manage to see her from afar and reassure myself that she arrived safely with my friends, but I could not speak to her. She must be dreadfully worried about me.”

Mr Norrell frowned and drifted into abstracted thought. At last he said, not very enthusiastically, “Perhaps you could simply reverse your journey from Venice. Command the Darkness to take you back there. That is, if you and I can manage to break the invisible bond that holds us near each other … or,” he added hesitantly, “perhaps we could go there together.” He really did not want to go to Italy with Mr Strange for the purpose of a reunion with his wife, but he felt he had to make the offer.

Strange sat up, intrigued, and then settled back again. “Yes, but the deuce of it is, I don’t know how I did it.”

Mr Norrell said softly, “Oh, dear!” He had always found Strange’s inability to remember his spontaneous spells most regrettable. They really needed to be recorded and saved. He had long been planning a supplement to Sutton-Grove, and Mr Strange’s spells would make such splendid entries.

Strange looked at him more hopefully. “But we at least know it can be done. The Darkness does move, and one can travel in it. Surely retrieving the secret of that would be easier than discovering how to dispel it altogether. Yes, working together, I’m sure we could do that! If I could only contact Arabella to reassure her and tell her that we are struggling to find the solution, I would feel much better about leaving her in the care of Dr. and Flora Greysteel.”

Mr Norrell looked at him doubtfully. “But how did the Darkness bring you here? Were you standing on something or flying through the air?”

Strange frowned. “I don’t understand how it worked. I seemed to stay right where I was, but almost instantly I was where I had wanted to go—here at Hurtfew. Not, I might add, inside your library, where I wanted to arrive. Your labyrinth defeated even the Darkness! I had to find my own way into it.”

Mr Norrell was relieved. “That sort of travel sounds quite easy. As you know, even a short carriage ride over a rough road is often enough to make me feel ill. And of course, you cannot go far without me. But if you seemed to be still and the destination came to you, I could no doubt tolerate it.”

Mr Strange considered this, and a thought suddenly struck him. “I wonder if, rather than trying to rediscover the spell I used, we could aim to devise a better spell that would make the Darkness take Hurtfew Abbey along with us.”

Mr Norrell looked at him eagerly. He was always impressed when Mr Strange came up with such challenging and ambitious goals for magical endeavours, and this one went vastly further than any of his earlier ideas. “That would be a most extraordinary feat of magic! And it would give us considerably more freedom. Why, we could go any place in the world! Or in any other world! Any place that needed to have magic done. Or perhaps any place where wicked magic was being done and we could stop it. I suppose we would need to find a large enough spot for the house and park to settle into. Of course, we would also have to take part of the river, as a source for the clean water for our silver basins. After all, last night, when we visited the river, it was within the darkness. Or possibly we could find a way to make the whole thing hover, do you think? At any rate, however we manage it, we should not have to leave the books behind,” he concluded happily.

“I once moved some buildings, during the time I spent in the Peninsula during the war.”

“Really? What sorts of buildings?”

“Well, two of them were churches. I switched their locations—when they were full of parishioners on a Sunday, in fact.” He laughed.

Mr Norrell frowned in puzzlement. “Why did you switch them?”

Mr Strange’s laugh became rather more embarrassed. “I’m afraid I was drunk, sir. Some of the officers and I had been drinking for two days, and I was trying to tell them about the theory of transporting things. It was just to show them an example. Come to think of it, I do not believe that I ever switched them back. But I transported other things as well. The city of Pamplona, for example.”

“And why did you move that?” Mr Norrell asked, more puzzled than ever.

“It wasn’t where it was supposed to be, according to the map. I thought it easier to move the city than change the map. Then there was a forest that I removed because some French troops had been using it as shelter. They were very surprised, I can tell you!”

“Well, that’s marvelous! You can tell me how we might go about moving Hurtfew.”

“Not exactly. You see, there were no spells for doing such things in the books that you had loaned me, and I essentially had to improvise when faced with such requests. I’m afraid I—ˮ

“Don’t remember the spells,” Mr Norrell concluded for him with a little moan of disappointment.

“True, but here we have a huge number of books, and you will surely find a way, sir. So, shall we vow to try? Together we can no doubt devise something ingenious.” He paused and smiled at his friend. “Does conceiving a goal this momentous warrant a hug?”

Mr Norrell’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to say lightly, “I believe so.”

They pushed their empty cups away and stood up, once again embracing tightly. Mr Norrell was nearly a foot shorter than Strange, and the side of his head rested comfortably against the man’s chest. He blissfully closed his eyes and immediately lost any sense of time passing. Eventually Strange pulled back and looked at him with an odd little smile. “You do enjoy hugging.”

Mr Norrell hung his head slightly. “Well, I have not been hugged much. Not since I was a child.”

Strange nodded, his smile fading. “No, I gather that you have never married or had children … Any siblings? No? Well, then the opportunities must indeed have been rare on the ground.” He paused and resumed, speaking more softly, “But you said you were hugged as a child. By your mother, I suppose.”

Mr Norrell sighed. “No doubt, but I can’t recall it. My parents both died in an influenza epidemic when I was quite young. I barely remember them. I was raised here at Hurtfew by my uncle, who was definitely not the hugging sort. Children should be seen and not heard—actually, preferably not seen, either. That was his attitude. To be fair to him, he provided me with a superb education. After all, I was his only heir and was to take over his estate upon his death. Otherwise, he paid little attention to me. No, it was my nurse. Mrs Thorpe, a widow. She was marvelous and took wonderful care of me. I loved her a great deal. But when I turned thirteen, my uncle abruptly announced that I was too old to have a nurse, and she was fired. I barely had time to say good-bye to her. My tutor took over my supervision. A brilliant man, but a very distant sort.”

Mr Strange struggled to hide any sign of the pity he felt, for he knew that it would only increase Mr Norrell’s embarrassment. It had obviously been difficult for him to say this much, and Mr Strange did not want to discourage future confidences. Instead he said heartily, “Well, anytime you want a hug, it’s yours. I am a very good hugger!” He spread his long arms briefly as if to demonstrate why and let them fall to his sides.

Mr Norrell again tried to speak lightly as he responded, “Then let us hope we can make some discoveries that will occasion another such little celebrations. Well, I would love to begin straightening the library and setting about our research, but there are higher priorities. We must investigate how we might cope with life in a great Darkness, temporary though we hope that might be. Shall we go into the library, draw up some lists and plans and then execute them?” 

Strange agreed, and they moved toward the door of the kitchen. Abruptly Mr Norrell wished that the hallways leading to the library were ten times longer, for Strange threw his arm casually about his companion’s shoulders as they walked. He did not take it away until they reached the room, by which point Mr Norrell was almost dizzy with longing.

++++++++++

He managed to pull himself together, however, and they made a list of things they needed to test and check. The first was to determine how far apart they could move without the jolting sensation of the unsettling magic procedure that brought them close together would start. To do this, they fashioned a long rope with knots at regular intervals and, carrying lanterns, went outdoors to conduct systematic tests of the limits imposed by the Darkness. Norrell stood outside the front door holding one end of the rope, and Strange walked slowly away, paying out the rope as he went, until the two once again found themselves side by side at the door. 

“Approximately 200 feet,” Strange announced. “Well, that is very useful to know. Now, our second item is to write a letter aiming to establish contact with the outside world.”

They returned to the library and sat down to write a long letter to the mayor of the nearest town large enough to have shops that could supply their various needs, Great Ouseburn. (“The Ouse,” Mr Norrell explained when Mr Strange commented on the odd name, “is the river into which the Hurt flows.”) They began with assurances that the two magicians were safe and that the Darkness, though ominous in its appearance, was not dangerous. They went on to explain that they needed supplies of fresh food and other items. If they received a response to their letter, they would provide lists and further requests. They put the letter into a large envelope addressed to the mayor, including a note that the envelope contained a guinea for the person who delivered the letter.

The pair set off down the road that led away from the front driveway of Hurtfew Abbey. That road would be the most likely direction from which someone curious about their wellbeing might come. After all, although the coming of the Darkness seemed to them a long time ago, given how eventful the intervening time had been, it has arrived at Hurtfew less than twenty-four hours earlier. Surely some curious people would wish to investigate. As they reached the end of the loop made by the driveway as it approached the front door of the house, they discovered a new addition: a large, ancient-looking stone arch. It was built of dour, dark northern stone and upon each side was a statue of John Uskglass, his face half-hidden by a cap with raven wings. The two examined it curiously.

“Not a charming piece of garden decoration put here by you or your forebears, I presume,” Mr Strange said.

Mr Norrell put on his glasses, trying to see any detail in the carvings that might offer a clue as to the arch’s origins. “No, of course not,” he replied. “This has appeared along with the Darkness—or, no, more likely it has been added after the arrival of the Darkness. You lived in the Darkness for some time in Venice, as I understand it. Did you ever see this arch?”

“Assuredly not.”

“Yes, this is a fascinating and important development. John Uskglass has not been as dismissive of us as we thought last night. Clearly this arch marks Hurtfew and its park as somehow his own. Perhaps it stands at the edge of the Darkness and forms the entrance to it. Indeed, I wonder if it might be the only way by which someone from outside might enter the Darkness.”

He closed his eyes and walked in circles through and around the arch in both directions. “Yes, I think it might be so. I detect considerable magic to either side of it, but the center of the arch seems to be a sort of void in the enchantment.”

Mr Strange frowned. “So, no one may enter the Darkness except through this arch. We, presumably, cannot come and go through it—at least without the Darkness following us—but others might. That fact, if fact it be, might possibly mean that we could hire some servants. That would be wonderful.”

“Quite. My hypothesis will need to be tested, of course, if we can induce anyone to visit us here in the Darkness. Well, let us continue with our experiment.”

They moved a short way along the road, assuming that the Darkness was following them and that they were now beyond its usual limits. They fastened the large envelope to a tree beside the road and went back to the house. The plan seemed to work as they had hoped. As they retreated, in the distance they could see that the tree and envelope disappeared through the boundary of the Darkness. Looking back again as they approached the house, they could barely discern the grey arch in the distance, apparently marking the edge of the Darkness.

Since Mr Strange had of necessity learned to prepare simple meals under difficult circumstances during his wartime service, he undertook to do virtually all of the cooking—though Mr Norrell admitted to being tolerably capable of making tea and chocolate, and with a little instruction he mastered toasting bread. There was also a goodly supply of preserves for spreading on the toast. They soon, however, would run out of bread, and baking more from the supplies of flour in the cellars was more than Mr Strange could manage. Despite the thousands of books in Hurtfew, the kitchen contained not a single volume on cookery. Mr Strange remarked, “Mrs Greeley is a marvelous cook, and I suppose she had all her receipts in her head. Ah, well, we shall make do for now.”

Clearly, once the fresh food they had on hand was exhausted, the preserved food would create a very limited diet—particularly given the lack of any but cured meat. Mr Strange had always enjoyed good food and drink. In his earlier days, Mr Norrell had never been particularly interested in meals, considering them mere interruptions to his researches. During his years in London, however, his situation had changed. Between the many invitations to lavish banquets and the fact that Childermass had employed the excellent Mrs Greeley for his establishment, he had grown accustomed to excellent cuisine. Mr Strange and Mr Norrell spent some time after a rather bland lunch composing long lists of grocery items to be purchased when they made contact with the world outside. By mutual agreement, large, juicy steaks featured at the head of the list for the butcher. Mr Strange assured his friend that he had often participated in grilling cuts of meat over open fires during his wartime experiences.

Once they had made up that list, Mr Strange remarked, “I am in rather desperate need of more clothing. Given that Childermass is about my size, I have thoroughly searched his room, but all his possessions are gone. Could we ask a tailor to leave a selection of gentleman’s clothing, so that I might pick out some that fit me? Or better yet, persuade him to come through the arch and allow me to try them on? He could perhaps adjust them on the spot. I can wash out my shirt and smallclothes each evening, but that will soon become quite tedious. And I shall need some boots. These light shoes are already suffering from walking about so much out of doors.”

Mr Norrell made a note to that effect, and after an early dinner they spent the evening writing out additional copies of their original message, intending to increase their chances of one or more being found.

That ended their first, very busy day.


	2. Contacting the World Outside

THE SECOND DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Venturing out beyond the archway the next morning, Mr Strange and Mr Norrell found their original message still attached to its tree. This time they took more care over finding strategic places where people were likely to walk past and see them. They left the other messages held in place with stones on the ground beside pathways, or fastened onto gates and stiles between nearby pastures. As with the original letter, each envelope enclosed a guinea and asked the finder to deliver the message to the mayor of Great Ouseburn. The message was identical to the first one except that it specified that deliveries and pick-ups could take place just outside the archway on the road that led to Hurtfew and that those who wished to visit the house would need to enter through the arch and ring at the door.

Having done much of what they could to prepare for their life in the Darkness, the pair agreed to spend a large part of each subsequent day straightening up the chaos in the library. They devoted much of the afternoon to picking up, checking, and cleaning the books, and to putting them in stacks according to the shelves to which they would eventually be returned. Getting the books in order could well prove the key to escaping the Darkness and hence to allowing Strange to return to Arabella. 

Late in the afternoon they paused to rest and have a glass of sherry. Mr Norrell asked, “Mr Strange, I am curious as to how you were placed in the Darkness to begin with? What had happened just before it enveloped you? I ask, of course, partly out of curiosity but also because your account might yield clues about the nature of the curse.”

Mr Strange told him in detail the story of his attempts to summon a Fairy to be his teacher or servant. He described his decision to impress the Fairy by visiting him in his castle of Lost-hope. Once there, he had discovered Arabella, bewitched. The Fairy had suddenly appeared beside him, the dancers disappeared, and the Fairy seemed to cast three curses on him, or a curse in three parts. He had instantly found himself in Venice in the Darkness.

Mr Norrell listened closely to all of this. At the end he thought for a moment and said, “Tell me again, please, about the three things that manifested themselves as the Fairy cast the curse.”

“First there appeared a swirling flock of ravens. Second there came a wind, spinning dried leaves. And finally a rain of blood. All of this happened very quickly, and these things were in the hall only for an instant before vanishing.”

Mr Norrell sighed and thought further. “Surely each of these appearances had something to do with the nature of the curse. But what? Well, the ravens are obviously something he learned from the Raven King. When I first summoned the Fairy he told me he had been the servant and friend of Thomas Godbless, Ralph Stokesay, Martin Pale and the Raven King.”

“Really? My God, to think that we have both spoken with someone who has looked all those extraordinary figures in the eye! Do you believe him, or was he boasting?”

“I suspect that he told the truth. Clearly he was immensely powerful and had a great deal of magic at his command. As we found two nights ago, the chaotic swirl of ravens is primarily a way of creating fear and awe in the recipient or victim, though it may have served an additional purpose. I shall have to investigate the leaves and rain of blood further. All three may have some significance, if only we can divine it.”

Mr Strange was still pondering the fact that the Fairy had known such notables from the history of English magic. “I would love, sir, to hear about your entire conversation with the Fairy, if you don’t mind.”

Mr Norrell pressed his lips together and sighed. “That episode is not something that I like to recall, but yes, since both our fates have been bound up with him, I feel I owe that to you. Perhaps over dinner, though. I suspect it is time for you to fix us something to eat. I shall continue here until you summon me.” He looked around with a slight smile. “We have only made a start, but already the library looks better. Sweeping away the black feathers certainly helped.”

THE THIRD DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The next day the two magicians did their chores and retired to the library to work. They were tempted to go out and discover whether any of the copies of the letter had been found, but they decided it was best to allow more time for the possibility of a letter in response. Finally, in what they estimated was late afternoon, the pair set out to check the places where the messages had been left. A few remained, untouched, but several were missing. Perhaps in some cases the finders had simply pocketed the coins. But they were delighted to discover a return envelope in place of one of theirs. It was a long letter from the mayor of Great Ouseburn, who had received three copies of their message. He had made some inquiries and found that some of the village tradespeople were willing, for a stiff price, to deliver anything required to a spot outside the archway at the edge of the Darkness. None of them was willing to enter the Darkness to be paid, so a bill from each seller would be included, and the magicians in turn were to leave payment in the same spot the next day at the time appointed for further deliveries. 

The mayor also assured them that the mail would commence to be delivered and picked up. He suggested that a box of some sort be set up for mail pick-ups and deliveries and that Mr Norrell leave lists of goods in a letter to be picked up the next morning. This would give time for at least some of the goods to be delivered later in the day. The mayor had not yet contacted a tailor but hoped to do so soon. Basic supplies ordered from nearby villages could be fetched to Hurtfew fairly quickly, but more specialized items and the tailor would need to come from the town.

This was all very promising, but it brought to the fore a problem that they had recognized from the start. The clocks all having stopped, they had no way of telling time or even knowing night from day. The mayor had given quite specific times for the morning mail pick-up and the afternoon deliveries. Missing the pick-up would delay the entire process. Moreover, they could hardly leave supplies sitting on the ground for hours after they had been delivered, and clearly allowing payments to lie about for any length of time would create an invitation to theft. They needed to be prepared to make the exchanges at the appointed times.

Mr Norrell at once saw the solution. Using the silver bowl, they could see things from a distance, and so they only need name a building with a clock tower. They tested the spell and learned that it was half past five in the afternoon. It was a rather cumbersome procedure, but it could be done a few times during the day, and more often when necessary.

Mr Norrell said, “I shall write back to the mayor immediately, and we can put the letter out for pickup tomorrow. Do you think that you could find some sort of waterproof box or something of the sort to leave it in?” 

“I can have a look in the cellar. There must be some sort of impervious container down there.”

In the cellar Mr Strange found a hinged metal storage bin containing a small heap of cloves. It looked fairly well sealed, and he emptied it. To make sure that it would not leak, he also took a canvas bag that had been waterproofed with wax, into which the bin could be placed. 

Returning to the library Mr Strange found Mr Norrell composing a list of items that they needed most urgently from a stationer’s shop. Mr Strange picked up the mayor’s letter to re-read it. He shook his head. “It is remarkable that the villagers and townspeople should be so very cooperative, given how frightened everyone must be to see a huge column of utter Darkness looming over the Yorkshire countryside.”

Mr Norrell shrugged. “Not so remarkable, when you consider that mine is the largest estate within many miles of Great Ouseburn and its surrounding villages. I provide a great deal of custom to the shopkeepers, after all, or at least I used to do when I was living here. Even now, my fields lie outside the boundaries of the Darkness, which as we know covers the park around the house. You may have noticed that the mayor assures me that those fields are still being worked. There are many farmers who live on my land and make a decent income from it. Indeed, their rents will continue to be deposited into my bank account in York.

“Which reminds me, I was thinking that, having contact with the world outside now, we should follow up on our idea of trying to hire some servants. They would not have to live here, just come in by day.”

Mr Strange commented, “Perhaps not by day. That would leave them in darkness both here and at home. They would become like us, never seeing the sun. They would probably prefer to come in at night—night as it is in the outer world—and go out during the day. Either way, it makes little difference to us, of course.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right. That would be more attractive to them. Yes, I expect if we offered a high enough wage, we might well find some people willing to join us here to do the cleaning and cooking and waiting on us and so on. Lucas perhaps,” Mr Norrell said wistfully. “His family lives nearby, and it seems highly unlikely that he would have found a new position so quickly. I never quite noticed how much he did for me.”

Mr Strange suspected that that last statement was quite true of Lucas and all the other servants, but he simply replied, “An excellent idea. I find myself spending valuable time when I could be reading instead dealing with the simple practicalities of life. We still have a goodly supply of firewood, but we go through quite a lot as well. We should replenish it as we use it. And we haven’t even considered the problem of laundry. Perhaps you could devise a way to clean linens with magic, the way that wretch Drawlight claimed you did.”

Mr Norrell glanced up at him sourly.

Mr Strange smiled wryly and added, “Or perhaps I could devise a spell of that sort myself. But it would be best, of course, to be able to hire a maid.”

Mr Norrell started another list. “What we need most urgently are a cook, a footman, and a maid or two. Possibly a gardener as well. And someone to take care of the animals, once we have them. I should ask the mayor to find a cow for us—or two if we succeed in hiring servants. Perhaps the cook could make clotted cream for us. Do you remember how we used to have tea together, before you went away to the war?” He sighed with an abstracted, nostalgic little smile. “Clotted cream and preserves on warm scones.”

“Yes, I remember it well, sir. And our fascinating discussions of magic during those tea-times. I thought of those scones—and those discussions—with longing when I was in the Peninsula. Perhaps we can manage to revive such lovely interludes.”

Mr Norrell nodded. “By the way, as you no doubt noticed, the mayor assures me that the horses are being well looked after on a nearby farm. The question, though, is whether we will need them and the coach at all.” 

Mr Strange considered this. “If we succeed in moving about using the Darkness, we presumably would not need them. And we can hardly drive through the countryside here with a giant menacing black column moving about with us. On the other hand, if we do succeed in dispelling the Darkness, you may wish to have them again.”

Mr Norrell replied, “Yes, we may wish to lease them to someone, if possible, or just to board them at a stable.” He thought for a moment, staring at the next piece of blank paper in front of him. “Perhaps it would be better, rather than having the mayor or his office handle that and the general challenge of rehiring the servants, to write directly to Lucas and invite him to visit us. He is quite clever and trustworthy. Looking back, I believe he was friendly with the others, most of whom were local people who came with me to London. The exception is Mrs Greeley, who was hired in London.”

“Yes, she was quite a treasure. I hope that she is still in the area. I agree, it would be a good idea to enlist Lucas to help in our efforts to contact the others. If he is brave enough to visit us and can be persuaded to return to Hurtfew under the current circumstances, he can then persuade the others that it is perfectly safe here. Some of the bolder tradespeople might agree to enter the house itself. I hope that those might include that elusive tailor.”

Mr Strange remembered Lucas as a good-natured, friendly man who had served as a footman. He knew that Mr Norrell had trusted him enough to allow him to help when books needed to be handled. He had also seemed in most cases to take Mr Norrell’s fretfulness in his stride—rather as Childermass did. 

With Mr Strange’s help, Mr Norrell wrote a new letter to the mayor, enclosing a second letter to be passed along to Lucas. In it they asked Lucas to visit them in two days’ time and explained that he would have to come in through the archway. 

The pair also prepared other lists of goods to be delivered and put them in a packet addressed to the mayor. Strange then spent an hour composing a long letter to Arabella, telling her what he knew about the spells which he and Mr Norrell had cast in their attempt to free her, reassuring her of his safety, and emphasizing the two magicians’ determination to find a way to dispel the darkness so that he would be free to return to her. Mr Norrell was quite subdued during the writing of the letter, spending the time sorting books and casting an occasional glance at his friend. 

Mr Strange had almost reached the end of the multi-page letter when he turned to Mr Norrell. “I have taken pains to explain to Arabella that you were of utmost help in devising and executing the spells that freed her and Lady Pole from the Fairy’s enchantment. I’m sure that will dispel any lingering ill will that she feels toward you. May I send her your greetings and best wishes?”

Mr Norrell agreed as enthusiastically as he could manage. Mr Strange finished the letter and addressed the envelope to the Greysteels’ home in Padua. Together they took all the outgoing mail a short distance outside the archway, put it in the bin and wrapped the bin in the bag.

As they walked back to the house, Mr Norrell said, “Before I departed from London, I had the books packed up, and I ordered them to be sent to my solicitors in York, where they were to keep them until they heard from me. I must contact them and arrange for them to notify me once the boxes have arrived, which should be within the next few days. I shall be very happy to have all my books back together in their proper home.”

+++++++++++++

Over dinner that evening Mr Strange said, “Sir, following up on yesterday afternoon’s conversation, have you considered the nature of the Darkness? Are we in Faerie? But if that is the case, why are we still in Yorkshire, seemingly establishing a surprisingly normal existence apart from it being night round the clock.”

Mr Norrell replied, “Yes, it’s a fascinating question. The Darkness itself I believe definitely to be a portion of Faerie. The strangeness of the stars seems to prove that—quite apart from the fact that a Fairy created the Darkness and that he created it while located within Faerie. And yet, as you say, it is surrounded by our own world. The best explanation I can conceive is that the Fairy wanted you to be unable to move the Darkness into Faerie proper. After all, it was your arrival in Lost-hope—an arrival that he no doubt saw as an aggressive invasion aimed at freeing Mrs Strange—that provoked him to cast the curse to begin with. No, he would not wish for you to have access to Faerie. In a sense, the Darkness may have seemed to him a sort of prison cell, a self-contained portion of Faerie that he detached from it. After all, Fairies frequently imprisoned humans in all sorts of places and objects. And yet …”

He paused. “It might be possible, though I am not altogether sanguine about this, to find spells that would allow us more freedom of movement than the Fairy intended. We have been simply hoping to become capable of moving about in our own world, but we know that human magicians used commonly to be able to enter Faerie of their own free will. And there are other worlds of which we know little and yet which we might, following clues contained within the books of this library, be able to locate and visit. It would probably take a very long time to discover how to do such a thing. In the meantime we would be limited to travel within our own world. That in itself, of course, is no small thing.”

THE FOURTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The first mail pick-up occurred at the appointed time the next morning, and Mr Strange cheered up considerably at knowing that Arabella would soon learn that the two magicians were safe. There was little incoming mail, since everyone corresponding with Mr Norrell had become accustomed to addressing him at his London residence. It would take an extra day or two for forwarded mail to arrive. The only envelope in the bin was a short note from the mayor confirming that he had received their lists and distributed them to the local tradespeople and had had the letter for Lucas delivered to his family’s home.

During the mid-afternooon, the deliveries of goods began, along with the bills. Mr Strange used a small cart to move the boxes and sacks to the kitchen, extracted the bills attached to or enclosed in them and took them into the library. 

Mr Norrell was seated at his desk reading. He looked up. “Has the chocolate arrived? Splendid! Those are the bills, I take it. We should take care promptly to make the payments on the day after the deliveries. That will no doubt keep the flow of supplies coming. And it might reassure the local people that life is going on here as usual, despite the Darkness.”

Setting aside his book, he removed some small bags of coins and stacks of banknotes from a drawer. Laying out the bills, he began carefully counting out stacks of coins and notes to pay each of them.

Mr Strange looked at the bags and boxes of money and speculated about how much Mr Norrell had, hidden somewhere in the house and in banks. Back when he had been a gentleman in Shropshire, he had an income of two thousand a year—money that he assumed was probably still accumulating somewhere in a bank. After his return from his first time at war, Arabella had told him that Mr Norrell had once outbid her at a book auction, paying an absurdly high 2,100 guineas for a single volume—the equivalent of his own quite healthy annual income for one book! Still, since then he had not devoted much thought to the subject. Now he realized that he was the guest of a very wealthy man who could satisfy his every whim, no matter how much it cost.

As if to confirm this, Mr Norrell said casually, “We need not worry about expenses. I have thousands of guineas here in the house. In a secret place protected by a labyrinth,” he replied. “At any rate, that would certainly be enough for our needs here, no matter how costly, for at least a few years, maybe more. And there is much more in the banks in York and London.” He paused. “I suppose now that we have mail service re-established I could buy books at long distance. I must contact some of my regular dealers and confirm that I wish for the usual catalogues and offers to be sent.” He looked up cheerfully at Strange. “If we keep making such progress as this, life in the Darkness may become quite tolerable, don’t you think?”

Mr Strange frowned. He had started by considering that the Darkness was a grim trap, and yet, he had to admit to himself that it was indeed promising to become reasonably tolerable, especially if they could re-hire the servants or at least find new ones. That was a good thing, since it might take them quite some time to be able to move about in it and finally visit Arabella.

Mr Norrell had also been staring thoughtfully into space. “It occurs to me that I should explain the labyrinth guarding my money to you, in case something should happen to me. Beyond that, I must make out a will leaving everything to you. That is, apart from a provision large enough to support Childermass for the rest of his life—assuming he can be located. I had occasionally wondered what should be done with the house and library upon my death, but obviously they should be yours.”

Mr Strange gasped. That Mr Norrell should be willing to leave to him most of the vast fortune they had just discussed, as well as the extensive land and the magnificent house with its library, was an incredible kindness. True, he reflected, the man had no one else to leave them to, but still … Softly he said, “Thank you, sir.”

Mr Norrell glanced at him with a little smile but did not reply. Instead he recommenced peering at the bills and counting out stacks of money. He sighed. “I do wish that Childermass were here. He has always handled such things for me. It is so very tedious when one could be reading.” Mr Strange returned to sorting books. Books that his friend was not only willing to share with him but also to give to him someday. He had to pause surreptitiously to pull out his handkerchief and wipe his eyes before he could continue. It was bizarre to think that five days ago they had been enemies.

THE FIFTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

As the end of their first week in the Darkness approached, life continued to become considerably easier at Hurtfew, though Mr Strange was still burdened with doing most of the tasks around the house, including washing his only shirt and and set of smallclothes each evening. 

Lucas arrived at the appointed time. The two magicians had not used their spell to check the time lately, having become absorbed in their library work. They were startled at the unaccustomed sound of the bell. The pair welcomed him and led him into the drawing-room to talk.

Mr Norrell turned to Mr Strange as they entered. “This is the room where I conversed with Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot, over ten years ago now. I have not been in here for almost that long. So much has happened since then.”

Mr Strange nodded, looking around at the elegant room and wishing that he could see it by daylight. As it was, they had carried in several candles, and he lit a fire in the long-unused hearth. The two magicians sat down as Lucas stood with cap in hand before them.

Mr Strange said heartily, “You are to be congratulated on your courage, Lucas! You are the first to enter Hurtfew since the Darkness descended on it. Most of the traffic has been in quite the opposite direction.”

Lucas smiled. “Thank you, Mr Strange. Sirs, I heard about all your lists and the trades-people delivering goods. When I learned that Mr Norrell had ordered a new supply of chocolate, I reckoned that whatever happened here that night, you two came out of it just fine.

“I was very glad to get your letter, Mr Norrell. I enjoyed working for you all those years, and it put me quite out of heart to have to leave. I cannot speak for the others, sir, but I think some of them felt the same. So I thought to myself that I would accept your invitation and come to find out what you had to say. I expected the place to be quite frightening, the way it was that day, but truth to tell, it’s not all that different from paying an ordinary visit to a house on a dark evening.”

The two magicians explained their situation at length, including their need for at least a small staff to run the house and grounds. They had agreed not to mention that they hoped to travel in Hurtfew to other places, since they were not at all sure they could manage the required magic. It might also be a long time before such a thing became possible.

They also offered a considerable rise in the staff’s wages, enough that Lucas’ eyes widened a bit. He readily agreed to resume his old position at the house. He also promised to convey the news to the other servants, most of whom were local people now staying with family members. Mrs Greeley, he said, was staying with his own family and had not yet decided whether to return to London.

Upon his departure, Mr Strange showed him to the front door, shook his hand and thanked him for coming to help them re-establish a semblance of normalcy within the Darkness. Lucas nodded. “I am happy to do it, sir … Might I ask if Mr Norrell would wish to employ Davey again as well? He has been looking after the horses. Once he hears that things are fine here, he surely would be willing to bring them back and work here again.”

Mr Strange smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely, we would wish to have Davey back. As long as Mr Norrell and I are trapped in this Darkness, I doubt we would need the carriage for anything, but we hope to acquire other animals, and he could help with the kitchen garden as well. At any rate, I hope we can make your work here agreeable, despite this odd Darkness.”

Lucas grinned and said, “The minute I heard you had returned, sir, I suspected that things would be a sight better. When Mr Childermass left, he said the rest of us should help ‘them’ if we could. One of the men asked if he meant Mr Norrell and Mr Lascelles.” He shook his head in disbelief before continuing, “Mr Childermass called him a blockhead and said, no, of course help Mr Norrell and Mr Strange, and I was mighty relieved when he said so. I knew Mr Norrell had gone into that library to be with you. In my early days with him, he was not an easy man to work for. I got used to his ways and his complaints, begging your pardon, sir. But he became almost a pleasure to serve back in the days when you were his pupil. I would say a complete pleasure, if Mr Drawlight and Mr Lascelles had not been about the house so much, begging your pardon again. They were not good for Mr Norrell. He just isn’t the sort to understand their tricks, you see, and that Mr Lascelles … but I’m sure I’m not telling you anything that you don’t know in that regard, sir. I reckon that things will be fine now that it’s just you and him. I can’t say I like this unnatural Darkness, but I for one can put up with it.”

Mr Strange clapped him on the shoulder. “I do not doubt that you are right and that you will find Mr Norrell easier to work for now, Lucas. If Drawlight and Lascelles should ever show their faces in this vicinity, they would hardly have the courage to enter the Darkness, and they would find no welcome if they did. In fact, I think I shall suggest to Mr Norrell that we put up a spell at the arch, preventing their ever being able to enter.”

Lucas nodded in agreement and turned to leave. He hesitated and added, “I would miss Mr Childermass, though, sir. I hear he’s somewhere in York. If Mr Norrell would see his way to hiring him again, I think things would be even better here.”

Mr Strange nodded. “That is a good thought, Lucas. I shall suggest it to him. Thank you.”

++++++++++++++

THE SIXTH AND SEVENTH DAYS AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

During the rest of that day and the next, Lucas diligently visited the other servants who had worked for Mr Norrell, those going back to the earlier days at Hurtfew. He managed to persuade the same cook, Mrs Greeley, to return at the higher salary. One of the maids, Hannah, also agreed to resume her position and said that her cousin Daisy from a nearby farm—indeed, a farm on land owned by Mr Norrell—might agree to join the household staff. Davey was willing to work for Mr Norrell again, and he set out to obtain two cows and some additional livestock to care for at Hurtfew. Late the next day, Mrs Greeley and Hannah arrived together, along with Daisy, and although they found the Darkness intimidating at first, they soon realized that it was in no way dangerous.

Lucas’ reassurances, the mayor’s encouragement of local people to sell goods and services to Mr Norrell and the prompt flow of money into the trades-people’s tills soon created a sense of normalcy returning, despite the presence of the unmoving black tower. Further supplies of fresh food were delivered. To Mr Norrell’s delight, a catalogue from one of his oldest and most reliable sources of rare volumes arrived in the mail. Mr Norrell seemed quite content now that they had help and good food. Mr Strange watched as he went through the catalogue page by page, making a note here and there in the margin, tsking and shaking his head over prices he obviously considered unreasonable and at one point gasping with delight and drawing a circle around a title. Mr Strange envied him his ability to cope under the circumstances, but then, it was probably not much unlike how Mr Norrell’s life had been in 1806, before Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot had visited and disrupted his quiet existence so dramatically. As far as his former teacher was concerned, life was going on almost as it had before. It just required more candles, Mr Strange thought with a smile.

The arrival of the servants lent a degree of cheer and liveliness to the household that did much to counteract the Darkness. Strange still found the lack of sunlight oppressive at times, but Mr Norrell did not notice it much.

Late in the afternoon, the two magicians took a break from their book-sorting to sit and read for a while. Mr Norrell paused and stared unseeing at the pages as he thought, “Here I am, working again to return him to his wife. The last thing I want in the world. But I have betrayed him too often in the past. I must honestly try to reach that goal. After all, keeping him here with me will bring me not only friendship but heartache. As I well know. At least if we escape the Darkness, I can go back to my old peaceful life.” Yet that life now seemed so gloomy and lonely without the radiance that Mr Strange brought to everything that they did together. He even contemplated again the possibility of inviting Mr and Mrs Strange to come and live with him. With a great effort he banished such thoughts and began to read in earnest.

Mr Strange was also thinking rather than reading. He could not expect a letter of reply from Arabella for at least four weeks or so. He knew, however, that correspondence would not be enough. He needed to talk with her directly. No number of letters, however long, could convey his feelings or adequately explain to her the strange enchantment under which he and Mr Norrell now lived. He resolved to work more diligently toward at least a brief reunion, even though it seemed unlikely that they could resume living together any time soon. He knew that he could not ask her to join him in the Darkness. Mr Norrell might almost enjoy the grim situation, but Arabella surely would hate it.

Despite his good intentions, though, he realized that the two magicians were already falling into the habit of digressing into fascinating discussions each time Mr Norrell found a volume that had something he wanted to call to Mr Strange’s attention. Indeed, many of the volumes were not put directly away but went onto special shelves reserved for Mr Strange’s reading. During these days and for many to come, the two men’s conversations would go on for hours without their noticing that they were neglecting their research on how to dispel the Darkness. Mr Strange felt guilty afterward, considering that he should be devoting much of his time to devising a means to return permanently to Arabella. He was reassured by the fact that Mr Norrell had already made some notes about ideas for traveling about the world using the Darkness. That at least would allow him to visit and reassure Arabella.


	3. Contemplating Desire

THE EVENING OF THE SEVENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

One evening a week after the two magicians had begun their peculiar life together, Mr Strange lay awake, fully dressed apart from his shoes, on his bed. He was pondering his recent interactions with Mr Norrell. Years ago, after he had first met the other magician, he had wondered if the man was a sodomite. He strongly suspected that Drawlight and Lascelles were, and at first he thought their contemptuous, haughty behavior toward him might be motivated by some sort of jealousy. They so clearly wanted to demean him in Mr Norrell’s eyes. 

During his studies with Mr Norrell, he had speculated on whether the two fops might be each other’s lovers, or might have lovers elsewhere, but Mr Norrell maintained a somewhat aloof attitude toward both of them, despite their almost constant presence in the house on Hanover-square. Obviously Drawlight and Lascelles were determined to maintain the social status and other advantages they had gained by being Mr Norrell’s promoters, and they saw Mr Strange was a threat to them. Mr Strange had noticed that when he was present Mr Norrell barely spoke to either of them. He clearly put up with them because they had the high connections in society that he needed and because Mr Lascelles took the burden of overseeing publicity and publishing from him. Still, he seemingly did not particularly enjoy their company and to some extent chafed under their control. 

Mr Strange had concluded that sexually his teacher was simply a cold fish whose love for books had replaced a need for physical passion.

Their lengthy hug nearly a week ago and Norrell’s other recent behavior, however, had revived his old suspicions. Possibly Norrell had such urges but had never acted on them. Mr Strange was fairly certain that he had felt the other man’s arousal as their breeches-fronts pressed together during the embrace. He had to admit that his own body had responded slightly to the hug. He also had noted that Mr Norrell was more often flustered now, blushed frequently, and at times awkwardly lowered his eyes when he talked to Mr Strange. When they were discussing magic or the logistics of running the household, he was completely confident and articulate, and he looked directly at Mr Strange, but now he was quite different during more casual conversations. 

It had been a very long time since Mr Strange had enjoyed sexual relations with anyone, and now he considered the possibility of responding to Mr Norrell’s unstated desire, sharing pleasure with him in the unnatural absence of other people—a situation that promised to last for some time. Mr Strange was not strongly inclined towards relations with men, but he was not inexperienced with them either. During his years in Portugal aiding in the war against Napoleon, he had had brief liaisons with some of the officers. It was generally thought that this was safer than visiting the local prostitutes, most of whom undoubtedly had the pox. Usually it had been a matter of surreptitious oral sex, but a few times while staying in more private quarters he had been coaxed into anal intercourse as well, and he found it quite pleasurable. Now, after the wild madness in Venice and the final burst of magic at Hurtfew, Strange realized that the peaceful days in the library had given his desire an opportunity to return. If he tried to seduce Mr Norrell, he was fairly confident that he would receive an eager, if awkward and embarrassed, acceptance.

Strange also considered, however, the fact that the other magician was most likely quite inexperienced and emotionally vulnerable. As the situation was, Mr Norrell might possibly fall in love with him, and having sex would increase the chances of that happening. Would it not be better, he wondered, to remain friends and colleagues? To avoid possible complications that could lead to great unhappiness for Mr Norrell later, when their goals were achieved and he returned to Arabella?

Still, those goals might be reached only after the passage of several years, even a decade or two. Possibly they would never discover a viable counterspell and would live together in the Darkness for as long as the curse lasted. Would it not make sense to grasp what happiness they could now, rather than live in indefinite frustration? 

By this point he had little doubt that he was attracted to Mr Norrell. Certainly the dour, secretive little man that most people saw would not strike most people as a desirable partner for intimacies. Yet he recalled, as he had many times, that extraordinary moment during their second meeting when he had done his little magical spell with the book and the mirror. Despite putting up a confident front, Mr Strange had not particularly liked Mr Norrell as a result of their first meeting, and he had been quite worried that Mr Norrell would consider him an inferior magician or even a fraud. After all, Mr Norrell’s reputation suggested that he had no tolerance at all for any other magicians, and initially he had seemed deeply suspicious of Mr Strange’s abilities. 

The other onlookers had gathered around to watch him perform his spell. Once he had done so, they had been baffled, since the book apparently had not changed in even the tiniest way. Mr Norrell had, however, immediately understood what he had done. The elated smile that suddenly appeared on his face and his obvious enthusiasm had transformed the man. Buried deep in his reserved personality was a genuine streak of sweetness, and for the years that Mr Strange had studied with his master, their relations had been quite friendly. He suspected that few, if any, other people in the world saw Mr Norrell in the same light that he did. Maybe Childermass had. He suddenly experienced a little sting of jealousy at the thought. He had witnessed or heard of Mr Norrell being petty, fretful, or angry with others. Yet somehow those qualities had disappeared whenever they were together. Mr Norrell had often been tedious when lecturing on magic, but his brilliance on the subject had nevertheless held Mr Strange’s attention because he was fascinated with the topics covered. 

Yet they had later been driven far apart by the war and by profound disagreements about magic. During the war and since their parting, he had often missed the Mr Norrell he had known during those early years. Now, with their reunion and success in freeing Lady Pole and Arabella, Mr Norrell had again become that same man, smiling and eager to tackle new tasks and perform new feats, side by side. True, he could still become a bit tedious when expounding some historical point that seemed to him pertinent to their conversation, but now Mr Strange could endure these little lectures with greater good humour than before, even seeing charm in his friend’s pedantry. And Mr Norrell no longer hid “dangerous” books from him or refused to be fully forthcoming when they discussed certain topics, as he had been in the old days. In short, yes, there was an attraction that others, had they been there to witness their exchanges, would find perplexing.

And Arabella? No doubt when she received his letter she would express confidence in his ability to escape the darkness and a willingness to wait for him. But what if he and Mr Norrell, despite their best endeavours, could not discover a way to escape the Fairy’s curse? She was quite a strong-willed woman and might eventually lose patience and give up waiting. She might eventually remarry. She might … he realized that he was making excuses for something that he truly desired to do. He decided to make some gentle overtures to Mr Norrell the following evening, after the servants had left, and see if the man would accept them. Would embarrassment and long repression make him refuse? That was a risk he was willing to take.

THE EIGHTH DAY AFTER THE ENCHANTMENT

The next morning the two were finishing a highly satisfying breakfast. Mr Norrell happily spread preserves thickly on the toast made with new-baked bread delivered the day before and sipped chocolate made with fresh milk. Mr Strange, who did not share his friend’s sweet tooth, savored some kippers and poached eggs. Having Mrs Greeley back had made their lives vastly easier, so much so that they often felt that they had time to linger over breakfast for conversations before starting their work in the library.

Not having so many household chores to deal with also gave Mr Strange the leisure to think further about the mysterious events of eight days earlier. Now he asked, “Sir, do you know why the Darkness curse didn’t end when the Fairy died? It seems very odd that it should outlive him, given that the enchantments of those whom he had kidnapped were ended.”

Mr Norrell nodded thoughtfully. “I have been pondering that very question, and I suspect that it was because the curse on you is quite different from the magic we overcame with our spells. Lady Pole and Mrs Strange were presumably both drawn into the enchantment with some sort of contract. The Fairy tricked both of them into agreeing to their own bondage.” He paused before continuing somberly, “Well, in the case of Lady Pole, I was the one tricked, to my great regret. But the point is, the Darkness was not effected by a contract of any sort. You never agreed, even through trickery, to be placed in it.

“No doubt the Fairy intended you to suffer in perpetuity or at least for a very long time, as is the cruel way of his kind. He would have anticipated with delight being able to return at intervals and gloat over your misery. He probably cast a spell that would last for a considerable term—a few centuries, a thousand years, who knows?”

“Centuries? Surely I would be dead long before that.”

Mr Norrell said with a sad smile, “Well, the Fairy was immortal, or so he thought. Certainly he had already lived a hugely long time. And it occurs to me now that in order to be able to savor your misery for as long as he wished, he would have to make you the same—and I as well, since I inadvertently fell under his spell.”

Mr Strange stared at him, astonished. “Immortal? Is that what you mean?”

“Well, I should not have said ‘the same.’ We might only be as long-lived as the Fairy wanted. He could specify how long in the wording of his curse, and I suspect that once cast, that curse would last for that specific length regardless of whether he lived or died. Whether we would die when it ended or simply be left as we had been before, to resume the aging process at that point, I cannot tell.” He paused as Mr Strange stared at him in disbelief. “You know that the clocks have stopped here, and the result has been that time has also stopped within the Darkness. We run our lives as much as we can according to time in the world outside, but that sort of time does not exist here. Of course, we have not been trapped here long enough to notice that we are no longer aging—but I strongly suspect that we are not.”

Mr Strange sat back with a frown and stared into space, trying to assimilate this hypothesis. Finally he responded, “Did you not say something about enchantments sometimes ending a hundred years after they begin? We were in rather a hurry at the time to find a more immediate way to free the Fairy’s prisoners, but I’m sure you said something of the sort.”

“No, that is not what I said. I said that the hundredth anniversary of an enchantment can be an auspicious time to try and end it. Certain spells and procedures are known, but they must be revised to fit the particular enchantment one wishes to end. In this case, that would be a tremendous challenge, since we know so little about the nature and wording of the curse. Still, with perseverance and good fortune we might manage it. Even if we did, however, Mrs Strange would long since have passed away. The only benefit would be to free us from the Darkness, and if we truly desire to achieve that, we presumably do not want to wait one hundred years to do so. If we are to return to the outside world, it would be much easier for us within a society that we know. The world in one hundred years will be a vastly different sort of place.”

Mr Strange sighed without replying.

“Besides,” Mr Norrell added, “a curse and an enchantment are not at all the same thing. I am not sure that the one-hundredth anniversary would mean much in relation to a curse.”

There was a long pause, and Mr Norrell said more cheerfully, “I must confess, I personally do not find such a situation particularly unpleasant. As long as I have a friend like you—“

Mr Strange interrupted with a wan smile, “And the books.”

“Exactly. Buying additional volumes can give us more to do in the future. I have already ordered two from that first catalogue that arrived. Consider also such things as the fact that efforts are currently underway to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs. Within a decade or two we might have access to the secrets of ancient Egyptian magic! And there must be all sorts of comparable great discoveries to be made. And apart from new possibilities, I much enjoy re-reading favourite books. Moreover, one can never run out of ways in which to experiment with the magic described in the thousands of volumes in this library.”

Mr Strange replied, “All that you have just told me, assuming you are right in your speculations, makes it all the more imperative that we devise a way to travel in Hurtfew by means of the Darkness.”

“Yes, and I must say, recently I have found a few promising ideas about that. Just preliminary ones, mainly concerning how we might go about detaching the house and park from the ground.”

“Really? Already? That is extraordinarily encouraging. You must show them to me!”

Mr Norrell said, “Yes, I’ve put the books aside with pages marked so that you can read them as well. No doubt you will have some excellent and daring ideas that would never occur to me.”

Mr Strange shook his head and said wryly, “Perhaps. And then you can take them and compose the spells so that they will actually work.”

Mr Norrell chuckled. “Do not be so modest, Mr Strange. This is why we work so well together. Our strengths complement each other. Moreover, as you know, I consider that you are already highly skilled in devising certain sorts of spells, and you may have abundant time in which to learn more about others. And,” he added, with a pointed look at Mr Strange, “to get into the habit of writing them down.”

For once it was Mr Strange who blushed.

+++++++++++++++++++

That afternoon, Lucas came into the library and announced that Davey had arrived. The two magicians bade him bring Davey in to speak with them. Davey, tall and strong and towering over Lucas, followed shyly. 

Mr Strange handled the negotiations. “So, Davey, Lucas tells us that you have been taking care of the team of horses since the Darkness arrived.”

“Yes, sir. We took them to my uncle’s farm, on Mr Norrell’s land. I have made sure that they’re well-fed and curried and so forth. I can bring them back whenever you like. My uncle also has a cow that he is willing to sell. She’s tied out front. ”

“Thank you! But since we are trapped in this Darkness, Mr Norrell and I think that we probably shall not need that fine team and the heavy carriage. We might sell them, or lease them to someone locally. But now you know that the Darkness, though a bit oppressive, is not dangerous. We are in need of some animals to sustain us. A cow is a wonderful start, and Mr Norrell will give you the money to pay your uncle. Given how many servants are here for meals, we could undoubtedly use a second cow, and perhaps some pigs and sheep. We also would like to replace the big carriage with a lighter one and a single smaller horse. That would be sufficient to allow someone to drive into town to buy things—books for Mr Norrell or items of that sort. Would that suit you? That and a bit of work in the kitchen garden?”

As he spoke, Davey pulled the bill for the cow out of his pocket and handed it to Mr Norrell. He nodded to Mr Strange. “If that’s what you two gentlemen wish, then I could be on the lookout for such things. I should be sad to see that team of blacks go, but they don’t seem so handy, now that Mr Norrell is not in London.”

Mr Strange nodded. “Alas, no. But we shall definitely have need of you, Davey. I assume that Lucas has told you the new salary that Mr Norrell is offering. Are you satisfied with it? Good!”

After Lucas and Davey went out, Mr Strange turned to Mr Norrell. “That reminds me, sir. Lucas suggested that it might be a good idea to try and hire Childermass back as your man of business again. Lucas thinks that he is somewhere in York.”

Mr Norrell looked up with a slightly alarmed expression. “Oh, no! We must not do that. He is what most people would consider ‘an English magician.’ I think there is a distinct danger that he might be caught within the spell of the Darkness, as I was. I have been thinking that I should write to him, however. Most likely he is concerned about us, and he might be of assistance to us in various ways.”

“Yes, Lucas told me that when Childermass left, he instructed the servants to help you and me rather than you and Mr Lascelles.”

“Did he?” Mr Norrell’s expression softened. “I am glad to hear it. It was very foolish of me to have sent Childermass away instead of Mr Lascelles—though of course, his departure may well have saved him from becoming trapped with us here. I really should re-establish contact with him, however. It might be difficult to track him down, but my solicitor could probably manage it, given enough time. Yes, I shall write to him now.”

That same afternoon also brought news that the two wagons carrying Mr Norrell’s books from his Hanover Square house had arrived and were being held at his solicitor’s. Mr Strange immediately made arrangements for them to be delivered to Hurtfew. “Only a thousand or so more books to add to our reshelving project,” he thought with resigned amusement. “At least these are clean and probably sorted.”


	4. Overcoming a Startling Reluctance

THE NINTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

On the evening of their ninth full day in the Darkness and after an excellent dinner and the departure of the servants, the pair returned to the library and settled down once more to their books, Mr Strange seated on a sopha and Mr Norrell at his desk. After half an hour or so, Mr Strange glanced up to find Mr Norrell gazing at him. The other magician dropped his eyes immediately and blushed a bright pink. Mr Strange had spent the evening before dithering about actually doing anything about his desire and had ultimately done nothing. Still, it was definitely building up. He took heart from that exchange of looks. He drew a deep breath and said, “Would you mind coming over and having a look at this book with me? I have a question or two about it.”

Mr Norrell smiled and nodded, putting a marker into the book he had been reading and coming to sit beside Mr Strange on the sopha. Being careful not to sit close enough to touch his companion, Mr Norrell looked inquiringly at Mr Strange. 

“Sir, you told me that in creating the labyrinth around the library you had taken your spell from De Chepe, as described by Belasis in his INSTRUCTIONS. I was rather intrigued, since I knew you would, as usual, adapt the original version for your own purposes—and undoubtedly improve upon it in the process. At that point Belasis was still missing, but this afternoon I finally located it. I was hoping you could show me where the original is and explain to me how you changed it.”

Mr Norrell looked delightedly at the book in Mr Strange’s lap. “Excellent! I’m so relieved that we have access to it again. I have, of course, downplayed its importance to you in the past, but that was simply because I felt it too dangerous for a relatively inexperienced magician to cope with. Now, of course, you should read it straight through as soon as may be. But as to De Chepe, Belasis naturally discusses him in the section on spells relating to magical pathways. It is, admittedly, rather a long section.” He reached over to take the book from Strange’s lap, brushing the latter’s thigh briefly with his fingertips in the process. His breath caught in his throat, but he hoped that Mr Strange had not noticed. He struggled to direct his mind toward locating the passage Mr Strange had inquired about.

As Mr Norrell turned the pages carefully, Mr Strange leaned slightly toward him as if to read along, and he placed his arm on the top of the sopha behind him. It wasn’t touching Mr Norrell’s back, but Mr Strange could tell that the other magician was acutely aware of its presence and was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

Convinced that he was right in his suspicions about Mr Norrell’s desires, Mr Strange leaned forward slowly and pressed his mouth against the other man’s. He sucked gently on Mr Norrell’s lips, which did not move under his. But the other man was definitely enjoying the kiss, leaning into it, closing his eyes, and making no attempt to withdraw. 

Mr Strange pulled back and savoured Mr Norrell’s positively radiant smile, relieved that he had not been wrong in his judgment of the other magician’s desires. He asked, “You’ve never been kissed before, have you? Not in this way, I mean.”

“No,” Mr Norrell admitted, dropping his eyes but continuing to smile. 

“I think you enjoyed it.”

Mr Norrell simply nodded.

“Your turn.” Strange said.

Mr Norrell looked up at him, startled. “What?”

“Well, I kissed you. Now …”

Mr Norrell blinked, and his smile was replaced by a brief look of panic. He was about to lean toward Mr Strange, but he looked down at Belasis, teetering dangerously upon his lap. He looked around.

“Do you have a bookmark, Mr Strange?”

Mr Strange looked around as well, spotting a scrap of notepaper on a low table nearby and handing it to Mr Norrell. The latter placed it in the open book, closed it and placed it on a table by the arm of the sopha. He stretched up and kissed Mr Strange’s lips. Somewhat hesitantly he began to suck on them, as the man had done to him. Gradually he gained confidence and was breathing hard through his nose as the kiss went on. Indeed, it could have gone on for many minutes as far as Mr Norrell was concerned, but suddenly Mr Strange pushed the tip of his tongue between his lips. Startled, Mr Norrell abruptly pulled back.

Strange said lightly, “It’s just another way of kissing. I’d suggest that you try sucking on it and licking it.”

Mr Norrell was dubious about the idea of their tongues touching in that way, but he did not want to disappoint Mr Strange and he definitely did not want their physical contact to end. Once again he stretched up for a kiss. When the other man’s tongue slid into his mouth, he began to suck and lick as instructed and gradually realized that his member was tingling and rapidly swelling in his breeches. He raised his left hand, and it hovered briefly above Mr Strange’s shoulder before he rested it there, pulling himself hard against the man’s chest. 

Strange ended the kiss and said with a grin, “Now, why don’t you try putting your tongue in my mouth? Be aware that I am not going to make it easy for you.”

This seemed odd to Mr Norrell. If Mr Strange wanted his tongue in his mouth, why would he resist letting it in? Mr Strange knew about such things, however, and they resumed. Mr Norrell pushed his tongue forward, only to find that Strange’s tongue blocked his from entering his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Mr Strange’s neck and pulled himself more firmly against him. A lively struggle ensued, tongue against tongue, until finally Mr Strange retreated and allowed Mr Norrell to enter and explore him. Any inhibitions he might have had about tongues touching each other were forgotten, and both men were breathing hard, their arms around each other and their mouths by now wide open and firmly pressed together.

Eventually Mr Strange pulled away and slid his mouth across his companion’s cheek, nuzzling slightly under the edge of his wig to swirl his tongue lasciviously around the whorls of his ears. Mr Norrell gasped and clamped his teeth together, seeking to stifle his reactions to the mounting pleasure.

Strange paused and drew back to look into his face. “Go ahead and make noises if you want. Do not hold them back.”

“Noises?”

“Well, reactions to what you are feeling. Sighs, moans, groans, whimpers—they’ll come out naturally if only you let them.” 

“But—“

“Please do not feel embarrassed. I would love to hear your reactions and learn by them what makes you feel good.”

Mr Norrell looked at him delightedly. “Everything you’re doing makes me feel good!”

“Well, fine, I am glad, but surely some things feel especially good. And frankly, the noises you make excite me. So relax, and … make noises. If you wish.”

Mr Norrell felt nervous about whether he was doing well enough to please Mr Strange, but he tried to relax as best he could. Mr Strange returned to tonguing his ear, and Mr Norrell soon began emitting very quiet moans. They clearly were not forced, for Mr Norrell initially seemed rather startled by them. Mr Strange’s erection twitched, and he hummed softly into Mr Norrell’s ear to encourage him. 

Soon Mr Strange reached under the other magician’s jacket to feel for a nipple. He encountered a stiff, embroidered vest and unbuttoned it. Below that was a shirt, which he unbuttoned, and, to his frustration, there was also a soft undershirt that needed unbuttoning.

“You certainly do wear a great deal of clothing, considering that you no longer receive guests,” he breathed into Mr Norrell’s ear. 

“I’m rather subject to feeling the cold,” the other magician managed to reply breathlessly. It seemed rather ironical of him to be saying this, he thought, considering that at the moment he felt particularly warm.

“Then I shall be sure we have a roaring blaze in the fireplace when next we do this,” Mr Strange whispered into his ear as he resumed tonguing it.

Finally Strange’s fingers encountered bare skin, and he went back to his search for a nipple. Finding one, he tickled it, and Mr Norrell’s body convulsed with the unexpectedly intense pleasure. Between the wet tongue delving into his ear and the fingers rubbing gently over his hardened nipple, his arousal reached its full hardness. By now he was moaning more loudly and even occasionally emitting a desperate little whimper.

“That’s it,” Mr Strange whispered. “Mmmm, that’s nice. You’re doing fine.” 

Soon Mr Strange pushed back from him and with a grin tossed an embroidered cushion to the floor in front of his companion’s legs. Mr Norrell watched in puzzlement as he knelt on it and reached for the buttons of the man’s breeches placket.

“What are you going to do?” Mr Norrell asked, his blissful expression quickly twisting into an anxious little frown.

Strange brushed his fingers over the bulge under the cloth and said with a chuckle, “I’m trying to prevent your spending in your breeches.” He reached again to unbutton the opening, but Mr Norrell sat up straighter and grasped the waistband at the front of the breeches. He was beet red.

“What is wrong?”

“I’ve … I’ve never uncovered my private parts in front of another man—apart from my doctor.”

Strange stared at him with a puzzled little frown, struggling for a moment with how to confront this unforeseen and startling development. “Well, I cannot possibly give you pleasure, which I very much want to do, unless you let me open your breeches and take them down, at least a little way. That is, I suppose I could, but it would be distinctly messy. Besides, I want to see you, to feel you.”

Mr Norrell looked thoroughly embarrassed and wouldn’t meet Strange’s eyes. 

Finally Strange asked, “But why? How in the world were you expecting to satisfy your obvious desire without letting me touch you down here?”

Mr Norrell sought to speak with some modicum of dignity. “I would go into my bedroom and take care of the matter in private.”

Mr Strange stared at him and then sighed in frustration. “So, to be clear, we have been enjoying being together, kissing and so on, but you want us both to end up alone in our bedrooms to finish up?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have to admit that I wouldn’t find that very satisfactory, and I do not see why you would, either. I am absolutely certain that you would enjoy what I’m hoping to do to you much better than a solitary session with your own hand. You were so hard a moment ago that I am amazed you could bring yourself to stop.” Strange paused to think for a moment and continued, “Do you remember that first day I came to study with you? You wanted me to read one of your books—Valentine Munday’s THE BLUE BOOK, as I recall—but couldn’t bear to actually hand it to me. But by the end of the day you were handing me all sorts of books and even letting me get them off the shelves myself. And, correct me if I am wrong, but I believe you do not regret having done all that. Right now, what’s in your breeches is somewhat like that book. You can share it with ME, even if you are not used to doing so and will not share it with anyone else.”

Mr Norrell smiled slightly at the memory and after a long, silent struggle with himself and with a considerable effort, he nodded and released the waistband. Strange opened his trousers and pulled down his smallclothes, uncovered his cock, which was by this point almost entirely flaccid. 

“Not surprising. Well, I shall have to revive your interest,” Strange remarked, and lowered his head.

Mr Norrell watched in horror. “You … you’re not going to put that in your mouth, are you?”

Strange’s smile again faded into puzzlement. “Yes. That’s why you let me take it out, is it not? You will enjoy it very much, I promise.”

Mr Norrell shook his head adamantly. “No, it’s disgusting! How CAN you do such a thing?” 

“Believe me, it is not disgusting. People do it all the time. It’s very pleasurable. Really, I have known you long enough to realize that you’re a fastidiously clean gentleman. You will not disgust me at all, I promise you.” As Mr Norrell continued to fret, he continued, “Just try it, try closing your eyes again and concentrate on what you are feeling. Please. I assure you, I genuinely want to touch you in this way.”

Mr Norrell looked at him doubtfully but finally turned his head to the side and closed his eyes tightly. Strange began to lick and kiss his penis slowly, moving up, down, and around the shaft. He glanced up and saw that the other man’s face was grimacing with clenched teeth. He stopped in his caresses.

“Please, relax, Gilbert. Doesn’t this feel good?”

Perhaps startled by Mr Strange’s sudden use of his given name, Mr Norrell briefly opened his eyes and looked at him, but he soon closed them again and slowly relaxed his body back into the sopha cushions and unclenched his teeth. Strange resumed exploring the shaft with his mouth, at last feeling it slowly swell and straighten. He realized, however, that Mr Norrell was again struggling not to let out any gasps or moans.

“Noises, Gilbert, please,” he said, pausing briefly in his licking and sucking at the head of the erection.

Mr Norrell’s breath began to deepen, and eventually he let out a series of gasps and low moans. Mr Strange patiently continued to explore the nearly hard member and finally was rewarded with the sound of soft keening. As it became louder, he slipped his lips down over the crown and gradually took the erection deeper in. He moved up and down it, his lips tight and his tongue working the ridge on its underside. He began to moan in answer to Mr Norrell’s increasingly vocal reactions, trying to reassure the man that he was also enjoying this experience himself—as indeed he was, given that by now he was in no doubt that his partner was thoroughly aroused.

Mr Norrell’s body was slowly writhing about the cushions, and he gasped and bucked up off the sopha slightly, quivering with mounting need. Strange placed one hand on his stomach to prevent him from thrusting into his mouth, sensing that Mr Norrell was building rapidly toward his climax. Mr Strange had forgotten to tell him to indicate when he was going to come, but he couldn’t interrupt the rhythm of his sucking now. He pumped the lower shaft faster with a tight fist.

Mr Norrell’s release banished any possible lingering embarrassment about making noises, and he groaned loudly and repeatedly, his head pressed against the back of the sopha and his face twisting in ecstasy. After his lingering spasms of pleasure faded at last, his body slumped against the cushions and he lay panting. His eyes opened in time to see Mr Strange spit his seed into a maroon silk handkerchief which he had pulled from his pocket. Mr Strange glanced up and saw Mr Norrell watching him.

“I’m sorry, but I simply find it difficult to swallow. Not that I consider it disgusting, mind you. I just usually can’t manage it. I do not know why.” He settled back on his heels and grinned. “So, you seemed to enjoy that.”

Mr Norrell gave him that elated smile again, and Mr Strange clenched his teeth, feeling that he could desire no greater reward in the world.

“It was wonderful! Absolutely wonderful. Thank you!”

Mr Strange slid up to sit beside him on the sopha, embracing him and drawing Mr Norrell’s head down against his chest. He rested his cheek on top of his friend’s wig, which was still on though distinctly askew. They sat quietly for a short time. Mr Strange was so thrilled at having watched and heard and felt Mr Norrell finally enjoy the pleasure offered to him that his own erection was unbearably hard, but he said nothing. Eventually, however, Mr Norrell noticed the bulge in Mr Strange’s trousers. His contented smile faded and he sat up.

“I suppose you want me to do the same to you. My turn,” he added, trying to smile.

Strange looked at him with a small worried frown. “Not if you do not want to. If you really believe such a thing is disgusting, I shan’t enjoy having you do it. Maybe you could just use your hand. I gather you know how to do that, if only on yourself.”

“Yes, of course. But what you just did to me is far, far nicer. I want to give you the same pleasure.” He didn’t look as if he were really convinced that he wanted to, but he was obviously determined not to ruin the evening by disappointing his companion. “If I do something wrong, though, you must tell me.”

Mr Strange put his hand on Mr Norrell’s shoulder and smiled. “You’re marvelous, do you know that?” He kissed the other magician’s cheek softly.

Mr Norrell had never been told that he was marvelous, except in his capacity as a magician. He stared into Mr Strange’s eyes for a moment and reached over to slide his fingertips along the man’s erection through the cloth of his trouser-front. With a resolved expression, he picked the cushion up and moved it along the floor to rest at Mr Strange’s feet. As he knelt on it, Mr Strange put his hand under his chin, raising it so that the two were again facing each other. “I did not say that just to get you to pleasure me in this way, you know. You really are marvelous.” Mr Norrell pulled his chin away and looked down, obviously not knowing how to react, but there was perhaps the hint of a smile on his lips. Strange leaned down, kissed his cheek again, and whispered in his ear, “You’re going to have to learn how to accept compliments, Gilbert, because I’m going to be giving you a lot of them.” He straightened up and leaned back

Mr Norrell breathed hard for a moment, still not looking up at Strange. He inched his knees closer to the sopha.

Strange spread his legs to make way for him, still doubtful about going so far as to have Mr Norrell perform such an act this soon. He was determined to stop it if the other magician showed signs of reluctance. He reached down to help Mr Norrell undo the buttons of his breeches, but the latter responded, “I’ll do it.” It occurred to Strange that this was the first time that Mr Norrell had taken the initiative, if only in a tiny way. Up to now he had just been following Strange’s guidance. It was a good sign. He realized that he felt enormously protective of the older man, despite the fact that he was the Greatest Magician of the Age. Magic obviously wasn’t everything. 

As Mr Norrell exposed the nearly erect member, Strange congratulated himself on having had the foresight to wash himself thoroughly in preparation for his attempt to seduce his mentor. He certainly did not want to confirm Mr Norrell’s strange notions about fellatio being disgusting!

Mr Norrell ran his fingers over the rough veins of the shaft and felt the velvety tip as it protruded from the foreskin. He didn’t really much mind touching it with his hand—he had done that often enough with his own member. But putting it in his mouth or even just kissing it still seemed slightly revolting. But he glanced up into Strange’s eyes and saw that he was enjoying the caresses. Mr Norrell was determined to please him, however unpleasant the process proved to be. He grasped the shaft, lifted the erection upright, and tentatively ran his tongue from base to tip. He had to admit to himself that it didn’t seem particularly disgusting, and Strange’s sigh of pleasure urged him on. Imitating what his partner had done, he thoroughly kissed and licked the cock all over. 

Finally he tried pushing his open mouth over the end. He found that he could not get beyond the thick top, and he choked slightly when he tried. “Don’t go any further,” Mr Strange murmured, “Just suck and lick the end. Yes, like that. Wonderful!” Mr Strange guided his hand to pump the shaft.

At first Mr Norrell found it difficult to keep up a steady rhythm with his hand as he tried to concentrate on licking the member’s crown. It was partly because he had become rigid with nervousness again, and he strove to relax. After a time his jaw became tired and hurt slightly from being stretched. His hand pumped a little harder as he sought to bring Mr Strange to climax. His partner noticed this and reached down, putting his hand tightly over Mr Norrell’s to help hasten his own bliss. Mr Norrell listened with joy to his mounting groans of excitement and finally understood why Mr Strange had wanted him to “make noises.” 

Finally Strange’s climax built, and he gasped out, “I’m almost there … now!” Warm, bitter spurts gushed into Mr Norrell’s mouth, and he struggled to keep sucking as they filled it. After the last moans of pleasure subsided, he drew his mouth away and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. Strange sought to overcome his dazed reaction enough to hastily pass the handkerchief to Mr Norrell. The latter dabbed his lips with it, wiped his hand and handed it back, saying, “I swallowed the rest.” 

Mr Strange snorted in surprise. “You swallowed it? On the first time? That’s quite impressive. Some never manage to do that at all.”

Mr Norrell stared into his eyes with a slight smile, clearly wondering if he really deserved this compliment and finally deciding that he would accept it. His smile widened, and Mr Strange felt a small moment of triumph. 

The taste lingered, however, and Mr Norrell rose, fastened his breeches and went to pour each of them a glass of sherry to clear their mouths. He returned and sat down, cuddling up against Mr Strange. 

“I did not try to swallow it. It was just that my mouth was filling up and it seemed like the only thing to do. Do you prefer it that way?”

“Many men do like to have their partners swallow. I am not quite sure why. Still, I liked it when you did it just now. I repeat, you are marvelous.” 

Mr Strange drew him closer. The two sat for a while, kissing each other’s faces and necks gently and caressing each other’s bodies. Finally Mr Strange noticed that Mr Norrell was getting drowsy, and he asked, “Would you like for us to sleep together tonight, in one bed? Or shall I retreat to mine and leave you to yours?”

Mr Norrell hesitated. “I’ve never slept with anyone else in my bed before. I wonder if I could even fall asleep with someone there. Still, I hope I could. It would be so nice to have you there all night!”

“I warn you, I sleep in the nude.”

Mr Norrell blinked a few times. “You mean … completely naked?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Mr Norrell was not sure what he thought of that. “Well, I do not.”

“Somehow I did not think that you did. You should sleep as you like. But the point is, do you mind having a tall, naked man next to you all night?”

Mr Norrell stretched up to kiss his cheek. “I would very much like to put that question to the test.”

THE TENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Sleeping together proved a great success. As usual, Mr Norrell wore a soft flannel nightshirt with matching breeches underneath, as well as a nightcap. Strange, as promised, wore nothing. Although Mr Norrell woke up a few times during the night, he did manage to sleep deeply in between. In fact, during those intervals he slept more soundly than he normally did. Strange also woke up a few times, though these were not the same times, and he always found Mr Norrell pressed against him, once with his arm laid across his chest. Mr Strange considered all of this, including his lover’s elaborate nightclothes, delightful. He congratulated himself upon having succeeded in his plan of seduction, despite some very peculiar and unexpected obstacles. The next evening they made love in the same way, in front of a roaring fire. Mr Norrell did not ask Mr Strange to return to sleeping in his own bed. After they had shared a bed for two nights, Mr Strange moved all of his things into Mr Norrell’s bedroom.


	5. Revealing a Horrible Experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incident which Mr Norrell describes, of two men being stoned to death while in a pillory for homosexual acts, is based on an actual tragedy that happened in an unknown town in England in 1780; the event led to Edmund Burke making a speech in Parliament condemning the use of the pillory. I am assuming here that Mr Norrell was born in 1765, so he would have been about fifteen when he learned about the incident.

THE ELEVENTH TO THIRTEENTH DAYS AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT  
Soon after Mr Strange moved into Mr Norrell’s bedroom, he noticed that his lover was not good at dressing himself. He had always had his nurse or valet to do this for him. Mr Norrell could do it, but it took him a good deal of time, given how many items with buttons he wore. His delicate hands, so adept at handling books and casting magic spells with his silver basin, were clumsy at most other tasks. He often ended up with some buttons in the wrong holes and was frustrated by a leftover button-hole or two at the bottom. The knot in his cravat often came untied within minutes.

Mr Strange offered to help him, especially with the buttons. He had known from the earliest days of his studies that Mr Norrell enjoyed being pampered, and he had seen how the servants at times treated him almost like a child. Now he sought to give his lover little pleasures. Mr Norrell especially liked the feel of Mr Strange’s fingers moving gently over his chest and stomach and even down below to fasten the buttons on the placket of his breeches. Usually he would press his chin down against his chest, happily watching the whole process. At other times, when he was still not fully awake, he would close his eyes and stand with a tiny, contented smile as the gentle fingers did their task. Mr Strange was enchanted by all of this and sometimes could not resist kissing Mr Norrell’s cheek. There were mornings when he used a little too much pressure in buttoning Mr Norrel’s breeches, and he would have to unbutton them again when faint keening and a restless shifting of Mr Norrell’s feet made him realize that he had aroused his lover beyond control. Then he would push Mr Norrell to lean back against the bed while he used his mouth to bring him to climax. During this procedure Mr Norrell gently combed his fingers through Mr Strange’s curls. Those were the best mornings, Mr Strange thought. 

During the second week in the Darkness, the two spent most of their waking time in the library. They had a better sense of night and day now that Lucas and Mrs Greeley and the others arrived and departed at regular hours—hours judged by the world outside. The servants, they discovered, kept track of their time within the Darkness with hourglasses, which for some reason were not affected by the curse. (“Perhaps because it does not give us a specific o’clock but just fixed measures of indefinite time,” Mr Norrell hazarded.) The two magicians acquired some hourglasses for themselves, and these proved very helpful in timing spells and measuring the intervals between meals. They read and took notes and discussed possible methods for moving the Darkness, ideally with Hurtfew going with it. It was an enormous challenge to do such a thing. They made only slow progress but took many notes.

To his delight, Strange quickly concluded that Mr Norrell was trying to make up for all the years when he had not had anything but solitary sex. Mr Strange would be sitting on the library sopha, reading a book, and suddenly Mr Norrell would appear beside him. The man did not outright ask for sex, but it was clear enough what he wanted. For one thing, he did not have a book in his hand.

At one point, hoping to draw Mr Norrell into taking a little more active part in initiating their lovemaking, Mr Strange pretended to ignore his lover, continuing to quietly read. Instead of finding some pleasant way to distract his attention from the book, as Mr Strange had hoped, Mr Norrell scooted away from him to lean against the arm of the sopha, looking down at the carpet, puzzled and crushed. “How stupid of me!” Mr Strange thought. “Of course, he has almost no sense of humor.”

Quickly but carefully he set the book aside and turned to Mr Norrell, taking his hands and kissing them. “I am so sorry, Gilbert! I did not mean to reject you, truly. I was … I was just teasing you.”

Mr Norrell looked less upset, but no less puzzled. “Why?”

“Why, indeed? Um, well, sometimes lovers like to be playful.” Mr. Norrell continued to frown slightly and stare into his eyes. He went on, realizing that this sort of thing was actually quite difficult to explain. “That is, one might pretend to be coy or indifferent, to provoke the other into displays of affection. That’s what I was doing.”

Mr Norrell’s expression did not change. He blinked a few times. “But why?”

Mr Strange sighed. “Well, I hoped you might do something to try and make me more interested in lovemaking. Wait, yes, I know what you’re going to say. ‘Why?’ Um, just for fun,” he concluded rather lamely.

“Fun? What was I supposed to do?”

“Ah! Well, that I can tell you. You might, for example, have tickled my ear with your tongue.”

“But if that’s what you want, I would probably do that anyway, if we were … were … making love.”

Mr Strange sighed again and nodded. “It’s true, you would. I’m sorry, I was being very silly. Oh, you are so sweet and so cute and so altogether adorable!”

Mr Norrell pressed his lips together disapprovingly. “I am neither cute nor adorable, Mr Strange. Puppies and lambs might in some contexts rightly be described as cute and adorable. Babies, I believe, are considered so as well. But middle-aged gentleman magicians are not. As to the adjective ‘sweet,’ I do not really know whether it applies to me. I doubt it. I would grant, however, that some of our recent activities together might warrant being so described.”

“Hmmm. I believe that I must be the one to decide whether I have described you to my own satisfaction. But if you object to those two particular terms, I shall not utter them aloud again. You may be sure, however, that I shall frequently be thinking them.”

Mr Norrell turned his head away with what he hoped was a dismissive expression, but he suspected that his struggle to suppress a small smile had not been wholly successful. When he glanced back, Mr Strange had a distinctly gloating look on his face, though it faded to an expression mingling affection and desire.

“Well, at any rate, I am sorry for teasing you so horribly. I should have immediately done what we both wanted all along: taken you in my arms and made passionate love to you.”

And he did. But he noticed thereafter that Mr Norrell became a little more demonstrative when he wanted sex, tonguing his ear gently or kissing his neck or slipping his hand inside his jacket and caressing his chest. Mr Strange never, however, repeated his experiment of pretending to ignore his lover. 

THE FOURTEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

In the morning the two magicians received their first visit from a tradesman. The best tailor from the Great Ouseburn, Mr Westgate, lured by the prospect of selling several expensive items, arrived with a selection of new clothing in the latest styles for Mr Strange to try on. The visit lasted over two hours, with Mr Westgate taking measurements to adjust the breeches, jackets and waistcoats to suit Mr Strange. Mr Norrell considered that he would enjoy watching all this, but he was determined to stick to his duty, researching ways in which to move Hurtfew via the Darkness.

Before Mr Westgate departed, he promised to deliver all the altered clothing in three days’ time. Mr Strange was relieved to have brand-new smallclothes and stockings. Mr Westgate cheerfully vowed to reassure other local merchants that visits to Hurtfew were not only safe but lucrative. He would try to bring with him a shoemaker with a selection of boots for Mr Strange to choose from.

Having just had the occasion to examine himself in a large mirror while trying on the clothing, Mr Strange was reminded that he was badly in need of a haircut. The time of his madness in Venice and the two weeks since had left his curls long and unruly. He asked if Mr Westgate might also find a barber willing to accompany him on the upcoming visit, and Mr Westgate was quite sure that he could.

That same day, Davey brought the other livestock that had been requested: two pigs and three lambs. Mr Strange and Mr Norrell were able to get fresh meat locally, and they intended to keep these animals for their travels, when such items might be difficult to obtain. Mr Strange also continued to order many other supplies for later, storing them in the many unoccupied rooms of Hurtfew. The process of returning Hurtfew to its normal running was nearly complete, and the goal of preparing for the future became the primary focus.

++++++++++++++++++++

In the library that afternoon, Mr Strange decided that the time had come for him to introduce his lover to some of the other ways in which they could pleasure each other. As they sat close to each other on the sopha, he asked, “Would you mind if we retired early to bed this evening? For an hour or two of special time before we go to sleep? To try that other way of lovemaking that I mentioned to you?”

Mr Norrell’s smile faded as he realized what Mr Strange was suggesting. He stared into the fire for a moment and took a deep breath. “I suppose we must try it at some point, since you say it will be so pleasurable. I certainly do not wish to deprive you of something you obviously enjoy so much.” But he still hesitated to agree.

Mr Strange clasped his hand. “It is not only that I enjoy it but that I am confident you would as well. I promise I will be gentle and careful, and you will not have to do anything at all yourself. You won’t need to watch what I do, either. And we can stop anytime you want. For now I won’t put that …” he glanced down into his lap “into you at all. Just my fingers.”

A look of distress came into the other magician’s face. “I cannot fathom why you would want to do such a thing. That is the most disgusting part of the body, and yet you insist on penetrating it with your fingers … and later with your …” He shook his head with a look of trepidation.

Mr Strange hesitated and then asked quietly, “Gilbert, where did you get the idea that such things are so disgusting? Well, in a sense I can see why you would think so, at least at first, and yet, as I have assured you, many people try them and find them most pleasurable. Why are you so exceedingly reluctant?”

Mr Norrell sat silently for what seemed like a very long time. Finally he said in a low, hesitating voice, “It was when I was a boy. I had already realized that I was attracted to men rather than women. I knew almost nothing about sex, though, and of course I had no one I could ask about it. Being a bookish lad, I tried to research what men did with each other. For a long time I had no success, but eventually in a history book concerning Edward II I found the word “sodomy.” There was nothing in the context that explained what it meant, except that it was something he did with another man. I could certainly tell that it implied some great fault in the King’s character, a horrible weakness. I had no one I could ask about it. I thought, however, since I had found it in a respectable history book, it would be acceptable for me to ask someone.”

Mr Strange nodded and asked, “How old were you at this point?”

“I was fifteen. By then Mrs Thorpe had been gone for some time, but I doubt she would even have understood what I was asking about. My tutor was of no use, and I knew better than to ask my uncle about anything, let alone something like that. The only person I could think of was Pastor Granger of our local church. I was taken there every Sunday by my uncle. That was in fact almost the only time I saw my uncle during most weeks. Pastor Granger always spoke kindly to me after the services. After all, my uncle was enormously wealthy, and I suppose I was treated quite politely because I was his heir. At any rate he seemed quite friendly, and he was one of the few people of authority I encountered outside our household. Well, I suppose I could have tried to ask my doctor, but my uncle would have to be given some excuse for me to be able to see him. I wanted this to be secret, of course.

“It took me weeks, but finally I plucked up the courage to ask Pastor Granger whether I could come and see him in his office. It was usually easy enough for me to ask permission to be driven into town, since I frequently bought volumes for my studies from the local bookshop. I was terrified when I arrived at the church, but once I was shown into the office, I blurted out my question.”

“That being, what is ‘sodomy’?” Mr Strange whispered, dreading what he was about to hear.

“Yes. He got red in the face, and I thought at first that he was angry. At least, he was, but I do not think it was with me. I realized much later that he probably thought someone had been trying to corrupt me. He calmed down a bit and was silent for a time, as if he were not sure what to say to me. Then he gave me a very long and detailed description of what men did together to satisfy their evil lusts. It all sounded so disgusting! And he told me over and over that it was a terrible sin, one of the worst things one could possibly do.” Mr Norrell had tears in his eyes by this point. Mr Strange put his arm around his shoulder and pulled the smaller man against himself.

“He ended by warning me very strictly to avoid any other boys or, worse yet, grown men, who tried to tempt me into doing anything of the sort. He asked me if anyone had done so. I assured him quite truthfully that no one had. I was terrified that he was going to tell my uncle about our conversation, but I promised that I would never do any such thing—that I had only been curious about the word and that I had found it in a book about Edward II. I said I now understood that it was a dreadful act. He seemed to believe me and assured me that he would not speak to my uncle as long as I kept my promise.

“Ever since then I have avoided any temptation to behave in that way. What he told me sounded so awful … so painful and filthy. And now you ask me to do it, and, oh, Mr Strange, I want so very much to please you, but … I just can’t …”

He began to cry in earnest, and Mr Strange hugged his head and shoulders against his own chest while he sobbed.

Mr Strange said with quiet rage, “What a vile swine, to frighten a child in such a way! He deserves a good thrashing.” He waited for a while, until the sobs diminished.

Mr Norrell sat up, his eyes swollen and his face red. He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. 

Mr Strange put one arm around his shoulders and leaned down to look in his face, speaking earnestly. “Please, Gilbert, believe me. These actions are not disgusting when they are done for mutual pleasure by people who respect and care for each other. They are hugely enjoyable. And do you really worry that much about whether they are sinful? You pleasure yourself with your hand, and that would be considered a sin as well—though surely almost everyone does it.” 

Mr Norrell finally looked up into his eyes. “No, I was not particularly worried about these activities being sinful. I knew perfectly well that I could not give up touching myself, even though that was a sin. The urge was just too strong, and sometimes I could not think about anything else until I did it. And what was so bad about it? No one knew that I was doing it, and I was not hurting anyone. 

“Sodomy, though, is against the law. I remember that only a few months after my talk with Pastor Granger, I heard about a horrible thing that happened in a town in the Midlands, not all that far from Yorkshire. There were two men arrested for committing indecent acts with each other. ‘Indecent acts.’ It was a phrase Pastor Granger had used to me, and I knew what these men must have done. They were tried and sentenced to be displayed in the pillory in the town square for three days. The intention no doubt was for them to be humiliated and mocked and pelted with garbage, but the crowd became increasingly abusive and threw stones at them. They both were killed. I saw a brief newspaper story about Mr Burke giving a speech about the incident in Parliament, saying that pillorying should not be used—though nothing came of it. Thereafter I could never think about such activities without remembering that terrible event. As you know, I am frightened by many things, but that perhaps most of all. I could vividly imagine having the same thing happen to me if I were to try ... The shame, the hatred, the violence. The risk didn’t seem worth it, just for a little bit of painful, filthy ‘pleasure.’”

Mr Strange was rubbing his back and said sadly, “That dreadful incident sounds like something of which your wretched pastor would have thoroughly approved. Those poor fellows! You’re right, of course, sodomy is against the law. And it’s true that occasionally two men just seeking a little mutual pleasure are arrested and shamed and punished—though fortunately the sort of incident you heard about must be rare. But people like you, who have quite private homes in which to do such things, are safe enough. Besides, in our current situation, we are safer than almost anywhere else in the world! You have to admit that.”

Mr Norrell nodded, managing a shaky semblance of a smile. He was still emitting little gasping sobs at intervals.

“Please, forget what he told you. Well, I suppose that’s really not possible. How could you forget? But please, let me try and prove to you that such acts engender a pleasure more intense than anything you can imagine. Do not let one man’s cruel words rob you of them!”

“But how do you know about these things? You are a married man.”

Mr Strange hesitated. “I was away in the war for roughly three years, not seeing Arabella in all that time. I suppose I could have dealt with my desires myself, as you so long have done, and at first I did. But there were many men in the same situation there, and they turned to each other for comfort. As I got to know them better, I had sex with some of them, both sucking each other and … and the other ways that you and I have not yet tried together. Such joys in the middle of such horrible events were precious, though rather casually exchanged for the most part. At any rate, that is how I know.”

Mr Norrell sat silently thinking this over, still sniffing quietly.

“I know I have probably shocked you somewhat, given that I was indeed a married man. But so were many of us who exchanged these pleasures. It is exceedingly hard, more difficult than you could conceive, to be frequently in danger, living often in miserable conditions, for year after year. Once I returned to England, I was again faithful to Arabella. I remained friends with a few of the soldiers with whom I had been intimate but just to socialize with after we returned home.” 

After a short interval Mr Norrell said, “I have never told anyone what I just told you. Well, there was really no one to whom I could or would tell it. But I am glad I told you.” Mr Strange kissed his forehead. “You said I could never forget what Pastor Granger told me. I have no doubt that that is true. But I think that you might possibly make me come not to care anymore about it.”

Mr Strange was too moved to say anything at first. Again he hugged his lover closely and finally said, “I hope so, I dearly hope so. If I could do that for you, I would be overjoyed.”

“I shall try. If you want to show me how one can take pleasure … back there … you can. I trust you.”

Mr Strange whispered in his ear, “Thank you, my dearest Gilbert. I know that this is a difficult thing for you to agree to. Do not worry. As I said, we shall take it slowly. I shall not start by putting my member in you. Just a finger or two.” He caressed Mr Norrell’s cheek with two fingers.

Mr Norrell frowned. “But even if I enjoy it, how could such a thing be pleasant for you?”

Mr Strange grinned. “I plan to begin by enjoying the sight and sound and feel of you having the most intense climax of your life. And once that’s over and you are recovered from the sheer bliss of the experience, you can reward me in the way you are already familiar with! But you need not worry about that now. This evening, then, as I suggested?”

Mr Norrell nodded with a slight smile that did not seem to be entirely forced. “I,” he announced abruptly, standing up, “am going to take a long bath.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Shortly before dinner, Mr Strange was working alone in the library, trying to keep his mind off the upcoming tryst with Mr Norrell in their bedroom. Mr Norrell was uncharacteristically absent from the library, having not returned after his bath. He had presumably found somewhere else to read. In this instance Mr Strange did not miss having his lover present, since he suspected that Mr Norrell was even more nervous than he was.

It occurred to him that he should make some preparations for what would, he hoped, happen that evening. He went up to their bedroom, wondering if he would find Mr Norrell there, but there was no sign of the man.

Mr Strange arranged the bed to be as comfortable as possible for their purposes. A few days earlier he had included a pleasantly scented salve among the orders for medical supplies, and now he placed it, a jug of water and some handkerchiefs on the stand beside the bed. He added extra pillows so that his lover could lie on his stomach and not have to watch what was happening. Despite his increasing nervousness, he was already hardening slightly at the thought of exploring the other magician more intimately. His mental image of burying his fingers in Mr Norrell and feeling the tight heat around them made him gasp and look forward to a time when he might be able finally to sink his member into that same tightness and …

The dinner gong interrupted his daydreaming, and he hurried down to join the other magician in the dining room.

Mr Norrell was very subdued at first, but Mr Strange did his best to entertain him with amusing anecdotes drawn from his wartime experiences. Naturally some of these involved magic, and Mr Norrell became more animated as he listened, occasionally chuckling and interjecting a question. After dinner they retired to the library for a while, to digest the heavy meal. For once they did not read but sat pressed together, softly kissing and caressing. Mr Strange was seeking to sooth his lover more than arouse him, but inevitably both of them began to feel the need for more. They rose and walked up to their bedroom.

Once there Mr Strange put his hands on either side of Mr Norrell’s waist and asked,“May I help you undress?” That made Mr Norrell look more nervous. Oddly enough, he had yet to be completely naked in front of Mr Strange. He dressed and undressed in a small chamber off the bedroom, and Mr Strange saw him only in his elaborate nightclothes and in his day clothes once they needed to be buttoned or unbuttoned. Now, without waiting for an answer, Mr Strange began to unfasten his jacket and waistcoat, kissing his cheeks and neck as he did so. Mr Norrell nuzzled against his chest, cooperating by moving his arms backward to allow his clothes to be removed. He had to take off his wig in order to have his shirt pulled off over his head, and he moved away to place it on its stand. He rejoined Mr Strange, who thumbed his nipples through his soft undershirt. Mr Norrell moaned gently and stood very still, panting as Mr Strange continued for a minute or so before taking the undershirt off. 

He paused to clasp Mr Norrell against him in a deep, delving kiss that left both of them breathless. Mr Norrell slipped off his low, soft shoes and stood waiting as Mr Strange unfastened his breeches and stripped him until he was completely naked. Mr Norrell shifted a bit uncomfortably, his eyes on the floor.

Mr Strange examined his body. The man had been pampered and cared for all his life, and his skin was pale and smooth. Given his fondness for sweets, he had a slight paunch, but in general he was neither particularly fat nor thin. There was even a faint hint of developed muscles, no doubt from his climbing the ladders in the study and carrying heavy volumes about. Mr Strange also realized that until recently, Mr Norrell had still been working for the Admiralty, which would have involved considerable walking over the areas where magical projects were to be put in place. He remembered fondly having made several such site-visits years earlier, when he had worked with Mr Norrell as pupil and assistant. Mr Norrell had occasionally objected to having to be outdoors, often in rough terrain, walking for such long stretches, but he had of necessity done it.

Mr Strange looked at his nipples, now hardened with handling. They were a pleasant brown with a hint of pink, and their areolas were perfectly round and sharply defined. The nipples were small and rested in the dead center of the areolas. His member, with which Mr Strange was already quite familiar, was perhaps of average size, though it appeared slightly larger, given how small the man was. Mr Strange slowly ran his hands all over Mr Norrell’s torso and ended by squeezing his small, pleasingly shaped buttocks and kissing him deeply. Finally he stepped back and quickly removed his own clothes. He noted that Mr Norrell by this point had a slight erection, which increased as he watched Mr Strange undressing. The latter was nearly fully hard by this point.

Mr Norrell had seen Mr Strange naked a number of times, since by now they had slept together for five nights. He watched now with fascinated eyes and a mouth that hung slightly open as he panted slowly. Finally he moved forward. As always, he reached tentatively toward Mr Strange’s chest, as if he still could not believe that such beauty was his to touch as he wanted. His fingertips brushed against the hairless chest and over the nipples. At the first contact Mr Strange moaned, and his member twitched. Mr Norrell slipped his arms around his lover’s waist and murmured, “I’m ready, Mr Strange.”

“I can see that,” he replied with a chuckle, glancing down at the man’s growing erection. “Come to bed with me, my sweet Gilbert,” he murmured, taking his hand.

Once on the bed, they lay on their sides facing each other. Mr Strange slid close and slowly kissed and tongued his lover’s neck before moving down to his nipples, tickling and suckling at them until Mr Norrell was whimpering and clutching at his head, pressing his body against the hungry mouth. Any trepidation he felt about what was to come had been briefly swept aside by the overwhelming sensations his lover was provoking.

Eventually Mr Strange coaxed him to lie on his front, his stomach supported on a large pillow. His erection lay in the space below this pillow, so that Mr Strange could gauge his degree of arousal once he started sliding his finger inside the man’s virgin opening. Mr Norrell became slightly fretful about this new position, since he sensed that they were approaching the moment about which he still felt nervous. Mr Strange adjusted the pillows and made certain that his lover was as comfortable as possible before proceeding.

Mr Strange did not move directly to penetrate him, however. His tongue slid teasingly across Mr Norrell’s back and shoulders, and one hand stroked his short, brown hair. Mr Norrell moaned faintly and continuously, almost like a purring cat. Mr Strange was about to remark on this until he remembered that Mr Norrell was terrified of cats. Instead he said softly into his ear, “Mmm, Gilbert, I love the way you’re reacting. You’re exciting me so much!” Mr Norrell wriggled slightly and glanced back over his shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes and a little smile before settling his head back down into the pillows.

Gradually Mr Strange’s mouth worked downward until he could caress Mr. Norrell’s silky buttocks with the tips of his tongue and fingers. His ears still caught the faint moaning. Eventually his fingers spread the cleft of Mr Norrell’s buttocks and exposed the clean, puckered entrance. He wondered suddenly if he dared use his tongue on it. He knew that his lover expected him only to use his fingers, but the temptation was great. Finally he reached out his tongue and tickled the wrinkles that surrounded the little hole. He heard Mr Norrell gasp, and the man raised his head. “What are you doing, Mr Strange?” he said with a faint tone of panic.

Mr Strange paused. He decided it would be most reassuring if he told the truth. “I could not resist, Gilbert. I like touching you with my mouth. Please, do not worry about my finding this disgusting. I do not. Just concentrate on what it feels like to you. It will all be easier if you relax as much as possible.”

There was a silence, and Mr Norrell put his head down again. Mr Strange kissed his anus and used his thumbs to spread it slightly, poking with his tongue until he sensed that perhaps it was slightly more relaxed. He raised himself on his elbows and reached for the jar of salve. He could tell that Mr Norrell was trying very hard to ignore this. He scooped up a large dab of the viscous stuff and warmed it between his fingertips before applying it to the little ring. He rubbed it delicately as his other hand caressed the smooth curves of his behind. Mr Norrell quivered with delight and began to moan again, this time more loudly.

At last Mr Strange breached him shallowly, putting only the first joint of his index finger through the resisting ring of flesh. At once Mr Norrell again stopped moaning and shifted slightly with discomfort.

Mr Strange twisted his finger gently, trying to loosen the entrance. Keeping any anxiety out of his voice, he asked, “Am I hurting you?”

Mr Norrell’s voice was tense, but he clearly was trying hard to sound calm. “Not exactly. It just feels very odd. Somewhat uncomfortable. But not painful.”

Mr Strange kissed his ass cheeks and continued to caress his torso soothingly. Soon he moved his finger further in. He found that sweat was beading on his forehead as he sought to avoid hurting or startling Mr Norrell as he went far enough inside to find the little gland that would set his lover ablaze with pleasure. Finally he felt his fingertip nudge against it. Mr Norrell’s body jerked, and he grunted in surprise. He had long since gotten over his embarrassment at making noises, and as Mr Strange began to rub his prostate softly and regularly, he groaned without inhibition. After a short time, Mr Strange reached under Mr Norrell’s hips beneath the pillow and found that his member was fully hard. He withdrew his finger, eliciting a desperate gasp from Mr Norrell, until he had procured another dollop of salve and moved inward with two fingers. He was determined not to try a third this time, and he worked to drive his lover to greater bliss by pushing inward rhythmically against the firm little rise in the front of the hot, clutching passage. He imagined his now painfully swollen cock in that same place and moaned aloud with desire. 

By this point Mr Norrell was completely sunk in bliss. He keened loudly and soon lost control of his body, which began convulsing spasmodically as Mr Strange drove his fingertips more firmly into his sensitive spot. Mr Strange rolled onto his side, removing his fingers briefly as he pulled Mr Norrell over so that his back pressed against Mr Strange’s chest and his hips rested on his thigh. Mr Strange held his upper body with his free arm, and reached past his rigid erection to re-inert his fingers and curl them against his pleasure point. He watched Mr Norrell’s slack, ecstatic face and listened to him groan more and more loudly in complete surrender to his soaring bliss. Mr Strange panted and stretched down to tongue Mr Norrel’s neck and ears wetly.

Thoroughly aroused though they both were at this point, Mr Strange tried to spin out the pleasure. But Mr Norrell’s body soon began twisting frantically. “Please, please more,” he begged breathlessly, almost sobbing with need. Mr Strange did not have a free hand to stroke his erection and wondered if he would need to instruct Mr Norrell to do that for himself. Still, he seemed so close to coming that he suspected it would not be necessary. Mr Strange pinched his nipples with the hand supporting his body as his buried fingers thrust faster and harder. Almost immediately Mr Norrell screamed and thrashed, his legs scrabbling against the mattress as drops of his seed sprayed wildly across the bed. Thrilled at watching his abandonment, Mr Strange very nearly came himself, but he resisted, taking care that Mr Norrell’s climax lasted as long as he could manage.

Once it ended, Mr Norrell went limp, and Mr Strange removed his fingers and eased his lover back down among the bedclothes. He lay with eyes closed, gasping for breath and trembling from the force of his climax. Mr Strange reached for a handkerchief and wiped Mr Norrell’s cleft and his own hand. He slid up to lie against the head of the bed, pulling Mr Norrell against him. It took him a long time to recover, and Mr Strange soothingly ran one hand over his body and nuzzled against his sweaty neck. He was so delighted with the success of his efforts and the slack, sated expression on Mr Norrell’s face that his erection remained firm.

At last Mr Norrell opened his eyes and looked up at him, completely awestruck. “I had no idea … no idea that the human body was capable of something like that. You were right. I’ve never felt it so intensely in my life! Not nearly so intensely. That was extraordinary!” Eventually his breathing returned to normal. “Should I … should I … my turn?” he asked uncertainly.

“No, do not worry about that now. I think I should do this to you another time or two, to get you used to it, before you try it on me. Perhaps tomorrow. If you feel recovered enough now to use your mouth on me, I would much appreciate it,” he said, glancing down at his very upright member. “But you need not if you are too exhausted by what just happened. I could certainly take care of myself this once.”

Mr Norrell smiled lovingly up at him. “I believe I can manage.” 

“Oh, Gilbert,” Mr Strange murmured, stroking his hair and glorying in that radiant smile.

Mr Norrell moved downward and his hand grasped Mr Strange’s thick shaft. He said, “It is very hard. I do not think this will take long.” 

“Ah, there speaks the expert! And you need not look so skeptical. I am being humorous but not ironical. You have become remarkably good at this in a very short time. By the way, I quite agree with your assessment. Have at it!”


	6. Declaring Love

THE FIFTEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT 

The next afternoon, the two magicians retired to their bedroom for a time. Mr Strange used his fingers to drive Mr Norrell to another dizzying climax, and Mr Norrell was so delighted and eager to please his lover that he immediately offered to return the favour. Mr Strange lay on his back so that they could look at each other and he could explain to Mr Norrell how to proceed. This position meant that Mr Norrell did not have to watch his fingers entering Mr Strange, which seemed to make the whole thing easier for him. 

After Mr Strange’s very noisy climax, the two relaxed in each other’s arms.

After a short silence Mr Norrell asked, “Did it feel the way it was supposed to?”

Mr Strange laughed. “Couldn’t you tell from how I was carrying on there at the end? Yes, exactly that way, and I think you know it. You are looking very pleased with yourself, as well you should. Ah, it has been well over a year since I have felt that particular kind of pleasure. It is every bit as wonderful as I remembered it to be. I am so grateful that you have had the courage to do that for me!”

“I must admit, at first it felt most peculiar, but when I found that spot inside you and saw your face, I forgot entirely about anything but making you feel the same overwhelming joy that you had given me.”

Mr Norrell kissed the other magician’s cheek. Mr Strange reflected that in a way this particular act had probably been the hardest one for Mr Norrell to face. The next and final step might well prove less of a challenge.

++++++++++++++

That evening, content and happy, Mr Strange and Mr Norrell spent two hours researching the project to move Hurtfew via the Darkness. Mr Norrell showed his lover some promising spells regarding the detachment of large objects that were firmly anchored to the ground. These were mostly objects much smaller than Hurtfew. One was a Roman spell for causing great boulders to separate from mountains and hurtle down upon military foes. They were obviously not designed for buildings, but, as Mr Norrell pointed out, a very intricate adaptation of such spells could perhaps define the dimensions of the ground beneath the foundations and cellars of a building precisely enough that the entire thing could be freed from the earth and bedrock below as a single unit. There was evidently no limit to the size and weight of the object involved. That would only be the beginning, however. The main question would be how to allow the Darkness to exert the magical power to lift and move the building and its surroundings.

After they had finished their discussion and made copious notes on their sources and their ideas for creating the new spell, the two sat on the sopha by the fire, sipping madeira-wine.

Mr Norrell hesitated and finally brought up a topic that he had been meaning to mention for some time. He dreaded to learn Mr Strange’s thoughts on the subject, but he had to know. “Mr Strange, you did not once mention Mrs Strange during our discussion. In fact, you have not mentioned her for some days now, except in passing when you spoke of your intimate activities when apart from her during the war. Surely, though, you are still seeking to rejoin her eventually, when our researches prove fruitful.”

Mr Strange’s eyes fell and he thought for a time, a tiny frown on his face. He squeezed Mr Norrell’s hand. “I must admit, I think of her less and less. To be sure, I do feel guilty about that. At times, though, I find myself absorbed in the magic for its own sake, as if I have forgotten that our goal is supposed to be for me to return to her. It is so easy to stray off at a tangent when something new and fascinating pops up. And sometimes our other, very extraordinary goal of moving about the world in Hurtfew seems the most important project in the world. Such a thing to aspire to, and with such potential! And to my considerable surprise, I have come to realize that this time with you in the Darkness has been one of the happiest in my entire life.

“I am very grateful to you for helping to rescue Arabella. But now, having satisfied that vital obligation, I … I find it increasingly difficult to imagine resuming my old life with her. That life existed in a time when I had never attempted mad, uncontrolled magic. When I had never tried to summon a Fairy servant. When I had never witnessed the dangers and fascination of Faerie itself. When I had never seen your library—at least, not this one, which is so overwhelmingly beautiful and holds such endless promise of secrets to be revealed. When I had never done vitally important, spontaneous magic alongside you and realized the power and joy of our combined abilities. Now we are making plans to do such exciting things, unimaginable things that could take us far beyond the limits of the magic we have done up until now! How can I give all this up?”

He looked up into Mr Norrell’s face and found the man staring at him, his eyes wide. “And then there is you. Most of all, you. You once said that you were the only one who truly understands me, and I suspected at the time that you were right. Now I know you were and are. After our wonderful reconciliation—how naturally it came, despite all the previous rancor!—and our ease in working together on the spells that night … I know that we belong together. During the time since our reunion I have fallen in love with you, Mr Norrell. Gilbert. I want to stay with you, whether or not we ever dispel the Darkness.”

Mr Norrell’s breath had begun to hitch in his throat during this speech, and he blinked rapidly for a moment when Mr Strange declared his love. He seemed quite unable to speak.

Mr Strange smiled uncertainly at him. “I hope that I have not said anything to worry you, sir. I rather believed that you might possibly have come to feel the same way about me, but if—”

Mr Norrell took a very deep breath and burst out, “Oh, my dear Mr Strange! I have loved you ever since our second meeting, when you performed that wonderful magic with the book. That silly book that I gave you largely in the vain hope of discouraging you from your rash desire to write about magic. When you did that, I recognized instantly that you were the only person I could ever truly be friends with … and soon thereafter I realized that what I felt for you went far beyond friendship. This is … something that I have desired for nearly eight years now, but I never dared … I never dreamed that you could … can you really … can you …?”

Mr Strange was breathing as hard as he by this point. “You have loved me for all that time? I had no idea. You were wonderfully friendly back in those early years, but I assumed it was nothing more than that. Truly. I am so sorry. It must have made you quite miserable.”

“Well, that is not in any way your fault. I could hardly expect you to love me in return. You were a married man, after all. Frankly, I never liked the idea of your being married, but I would not have tried to take you away from your wife. Partly because it would be wrong and admittedly partly because it never would have occurred to me that I could possibly succeed. I struggled to be content with your friendship. That was so very precious to me, the most precious thing in my life, apart from magic itself. And really, even at that point, I thought of you and magic as much the same thing. But when you decided to stop being my pupil, I became far more miserable. I missed you so much! I think the dreadful things I did to you came out of that misery. I destroyed all those copies of your book partly because I really thought that it contained many dangerous ideas, but at the time I would not admit to myself that it was equally because I was jealous at the idea that there might be someone who could read it and understand you as well as I do. Someone who might become your friend in my place.”

By the end of this speech he was struggling not to cry.

Mr Strange slid toward him, grasped his shoulders and earnestly replied, “I quite understand, and I realize that I should not have left you. I was quite miserable after our split as well, and there were many times when I longed to talk with you. It was my wretched pride, I think, that stopped me. ‘Arrogance.’ I certainly lived up to that name. It would have been so much better if we had remained together. You were very generous to offer to make me your equal partner and to show me your entire library. We should have resolved our differences through discussion and study, and I accept my share of the blame for the fact that we did not.”

Managing the ghost of a smile, Mr Norrell replied, sounding somewhat calmer. “But all that is over now. You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you? And yet … can you really be in love with me? You, so young and beautiful and talented?” He leaned forward suddenly and pressed his forehead against the side of Mr Strange’s chest, grasping his hand. “Oh, please, let it be true! Please …”

Mr Strange pushed Mr Norrell away from his chest, raising him until they were again looking into each other’s eyes. “Mr Norrell ... Gilbert … do not be so afraid! Fear mice, yes, and cats, they are terrible creatures! But do not fear that I am not telling you the absolute truth. I assure you, I truly can and do love you. More than I could possibly express to you. I hope you do not believe that I could be so cruel as to mislead you and thus make you even more miserable!” His hands cupped the sides of Mr Norrell’s head, and he said earnestly, “I want nothing more than to work with you and live with you and undertake the marvelous plans that we are just beginning to make. We will discover so much that no one else possibly could, and we will be everything to each other. And I will make you happy, I promise, as much as I possibly can, in every way.”

Mr Norrell stared at him with brimming eyes. Mr Strange hoped that Mr Norrell could see as much devotion and adoration in his own face as he saw in his lover’s. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He released the other man’s head, settling back to sit sideways on the sopha facing him. He said, “Gilbert, when you destroyed virtually all the copies of my book, in a sense you did it the ultimate honor. You made it the unique and rare object that your most precious books are—like them, you made it something for you to treasure. I want now to write the planned volumes of my book. Not to publish them but to give the manuscripts to you. With us sharing books together in the Darkness, there is no reason for any other copies to exist. I think it is the best gift I could offer you in exchange for all that you have done for me, all you have taught me and will teach me. At least, I hope you will think it so.”

Mr Norrell leaned forward and hugged him tightly, saying softly beside his ear. “Yes! Please, write the rest of it! After what I did, I never dared hope that you would write any more, dearly though I would have loved to read your other ideas about magic. I have felt terribly guilty about your not finishing it. So much knowledge and wisdom lost to the world, and entirely my fault!” He pulled back slightly, his face close to Mr Strange’s, looking into his eyes. “If you offer me such a gift, I believe that every page will seem to me like a declaration of love.”

Mr Strange gave his old ironical smile as he said, “Why, Mr Norrell, I do believe that you are becoming quite romantic. Whoever would have thought it?”

Mr Norrell shifted closer to the other magician and pivoted to lean up comfortably against him as Mr Strange put his arm around his shoulders. Mr Norrell replied, “But with English magic now restored, and magicians appearing everywhere, I no longer want to keep your book only to myself. We could arrange for the entire series to be published. With no doubt some revisions made in the first volume for its new edition. As it stands it is quite brilliant, of course, but I have several suggestions about--”

Mr Strange briefly placed his fingertips on Mr Norrell’s lips to silence him. “Sir, if you do not mind having the book published, then of course, I would insist on your helping me with it. We are partners!”

“I would be most honoured to help in any way I can. I am so happy that we can once again work together. I caused us to waste so much time that we could have spent together. I shall always regret those years apart.”

Mr Strange stroked his cheek. “So shall I, but please do not think of those years as wasted. Look on the bright side. You were doing something you loved, and in the process you turned yourself into an even greater magician than you had been. You made incalculable contributions to your country’s war efforts. And amazingly, despite all our conflicts, you kept your love for me alive. As for me, my wartime work for Wellington taught me a great deal of new magic—and made me considerably less arrogant, I think, as I witnessed the extraordinary sacrifices that the common soldiers made. Somehow I feel that we were meant not to find each other again until we had become more alike. More alike in a good way, I mean. I learned something of the perils of the old, unrespectable magic, and you learned something of its promise.”

“Perhaps. What you say reminds me of something most peculiar that happened a short time ago.” He hesitated. “Ever since you ceased to be my pupil, I had been in the habit of using a spell to try and see what you were doing. I never was able to succeed. I assumed you had anticipated that I would do so and created a protective counterspell. I certainly did that on my own behalf, in the fear that you would attempt to observe me. At any rate, I never succeeded in seeing you. About a month before my return to Hurtfew, I believed I had at last made a breakthrough. I saw an image of a magician doing magic with a mirror. At first I thought I had penetrated your defenses and could at last find out what you were doing. I soon realized, however, that I had summoned a vision of myself casting the spell to locate you. I cast that spell over and over, varying it, and yet I always saw only myself. I concluded that English magic could no longer tell the two of us apart. I still cannot understand why, but as you say, perhaps we have become more like each other.”

Mr Strange drew back and looked at him eagerly. “A spell using a mirror, designed to see someone from afar. What was the name of that spell?”

“I call it ‘One spell to discover what My Enemy is doing Presently.’ A simple but effective little piece of magic which I adapted from an ancient source—or at least it was effective, until the events I just described. I trust you understand that the inclusion of the word ‘presently’ is necessary to prevent the spell from showing—”

“Gilbert! That was your spell? But I bought a copy of it from Vinculus, long ago when he informed me that I was a magician. How is that possible? You hated him! You would not give him such a thing.”

Mr Norrell stared at him with a little frown as he spoke. “Vinculus? The last time I wrote that spell down was when I gave it to Childermass to help him drive Vinculus out of London. Childermass later told me that Vinculus had already decided to leave London. He did not need to use the spells I provided, so I assumed he had destroyed his copies. Or secretly kept them for himself, as he tended to do with anything connected to magic.”

“That makes sense! And you gave Childermass two other spells, something about making an stubborn man leave London. Come to think of it, those spells were written in a very small and neat hand—yours, in fact, I now realize. I can only suppose that Vinculus somehow stole the spells from Childermass.” He laughed suddenly. “All of which means that you were the one who launched me upon my career! That evening I claimed to Arabella that I was a magician, but I was just trying to impress her. I had no great faith in Vinculus’ words to me. It was when I successfully cast that discovery spell that I realized he was inexplicably right.”

Mr Norrell looked startled. “How extraordinary! And whom did you see in the mirror?”

Mr Strange hesitated and said, “You. When I cast that spell, I had no idea who you were, of course, but I recognized you later when I met you. I was very much puzzled as to why you, who welcomed me into your home and library and offered to teach me, could be my enemy.”

“At the time I do not think that I was. I became so later, to be sure, but not, I am happy to say, permanently. Which reminds me. When I first summoned the Fairy and declined to have him as my mentor, he said he wanted to speak to the other magician, who was my best friend in the world. I was baffled, and though I long thought over whom he might mean, I never was able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Well, at least not until you came and performed magic for me and became my best friend in the world. I must say, I prefer that prophecy to the one you saw in the mirror, even given that spell’s original source.”

Mr Strange said soothingly, “Perhaps at the time you were my enemy simply in the sense that you were the enemy of all other magicians, buying up any book of magic you could find and seeking to suppress anyone who might claim the title of ‘magician.’ Once I started searching for such books, I certainly came to think of you as my enemy. When I first visited you, I was quite prepared to be summarily rejected. And indeed I told Arabella afterward that you did not like me or I you. She understood you better than I. I remember she said something about you eating me up with your eyes and also that you were lonely.”

“Indeed, during that first visit I did keep my eyes upon you, but not because I was attracted to you then. I thought you were probably a fraud, but I had to allow for the possibility that you were an actual magician, a genuine rival. If so, I would certainly have set out to control you. As indeed I ultimately did, strictly limiting the types of books I would let you see. On that second visit, however, when you did your magic … then I was definitely eating you up with my eyes, though for a very different reason.” He looked up at Mr Strange with a fond smile.

Later it occurred to Mr Strange that perhaps Mr Norrell had seen only himself in the mirror when attempting to cast his discovery spell because the other magician had by then become his own worst enemy. He recalled the words of the Raven King’s prophecy as delivered by Vinculus: “The first shall pass his life alone; he shall be his own gaoler.” He never spoke this thought aloud, however. As far as he was concerned, that prophecy had ultimately proven wrong. Mr Norrell was no longer alone, and he was determined that his lover never would be again.

THE SIXTEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The two magicians’ declarations of love galvanized them into working harder than ever on plans to travel via the Darkness. Knowing that they would stay together forever made it seem all the more desirable and exciting. They spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon reading and taking notes. They paused in their work for a short time, magically sealing the library and indulging in the new form of lovemaking, which Mr Norrell had quickly taken to with considerable enthusiasm. After an exchange of pleasure and a short nap, Mr Norrell declared that he needed to take some measurements of the cellar and grounds, and departed to carry out his task with Davey’s help. Mr Strange carried on working in the library.

A short time before dinner, he looked up when Lucas came in with a tray and began clearing away the tea settings and some used glasses. He also moved about the room, straightening piles of books and picking up papers that had been left strewn about during the day.

Mr Strange realized that he himself had caused most of the disarray, and he said, “Thank you, Lucas. What a mess I have made! Mr Norrell would not be pleased to see his library in such a state. You have probably saved me from a scolding.” He rose and stretched and yawned rather extravagantly.

He had found that he liked Lucas more and more. By now they tended to chat with each other in this casual way, more like friends than like master and servant, especially when Mr Norrell was not present. It seemed only natural, since they were fairly close in age, and Mr Strange was so sociable. As Lucas turned to leave Mr Strange asked, “By the way, do you continue to find Mr Norrell easier to work for?” It occurred to him that this question mattered very much if he and Mr Norrell were to invite Lucas to join them on their planned travels.

Lucas stopped and put the tray on a low table. “Oh, yes, sir. Much easier. I believe the others are of the same mind. I still think it’s having you here that caused the change. You give him everything he needs. Absolutely everything,” he added with a knowing smile and a flick upward of his eyebrows.

Mr Strange froze, staring at him. He and Mr Norrell had been very discreet in their lovemaking, casting spells around the library to prevent any sounds they made from being audible outside the room. The servants did not attend upon them in their bedroom, and Mr Strange had undertaken to rinse out handkerchiefs that they used during lovemaking before putting them in the laundry, so that no one should become aware of their intimate activities. How had Lucas guessed their secret? Suddenly he realised that the Darkness was now not as closed and safe a place to be as he had claimed to Mr Norrell.

He also realised that pretending not to understand Lucas’ insinuations would be a bad idea. The man’s smile had faded, and he looked slightly abashed, as if fearing that he been far too familiar in speaking to Mr Strange. The latter hastened to reassure him by replying quite calmly with a tiny smile, “How did you come to know about us, Lucas?”

Lucas looked more confident and moved to stand in front of the desk. “Do not worry, sir. It would not be obvious to most people, but it was to me.” He paused before continuing, “To be honest, I am of the same inclination myself.”

Mr Strange stared at him. “That seems an extraordinary coincidence! Did Mr Norrell hire you for that reason?”

“No, sir, not at all! It was Mr Childermass that hired me. If you ask, did he know about me, I’d say yes, I would wager that he did. He always seemed to know everything without asking, that man, but in my case he did not hold it against me. A very clever fellow, Mr Childermass. I sometimes wondered if he might have hoped that Mr Norrell would get interested in me that way—especially after you arrived and he became so … fond of you .. and to no good purpose, at least in those days. But you might as well try to jump over the moon as distract Mr Norrell from you, sir, if you will pardon my being so bold. Not that I ever tried, and he has never so much as glanced at me in that way. Or anyone else, I’ll be bound, not once he had seen you. He never had eyes for anyone but you.”

Mr Strange’s smile became increasingly broad as he listened. “But how long have you known?”

“About you and him, sir? Oh, I have known for a long time. At least, I knew that Mr Norrell loved you from early on. I could tell by the way he looked at you, talked about nothing but you when you were not there, pined after you when you left. That’s when things got much more difficult in that house. I have to say, I am very glad that you two can finally be together. I do like Mr Norrell, despite his little ways, and even if I didn’t, I’m proud of all that he did to help our country during the wars. I used to boast to the boys at the Glasshouse-street boiling-cellar that we could not have beat old Boney without Mr Norrell’s magic, and I believed every word I said. He deserves finally to be happy with you. And you, too, sir. You did a great deal during the war, though I wasn’t your servant and had no boasting rights about you. But you and I get on very well, and have from the start. I hope you’ll be happy with him.”

Mr Strange felt an enormous sense of relief. “Thank you, Lucas. I know that we will both be very happy. I have always felt that Mr Norrell was lucky to have you in his service, and now I am extremely grateful that you have come back to us. Apart from anything else, you obviously know well the sorts of dangers the two of us might face if word of our relationship were to circulate in the village and out into society. Not just from the law, but from malicious talk that would damage public attitude toward the return of English magic. I know I can trust you to help us keep what we do in private a secret.”

“Absolutely, sir! I would never do anything that might betray you. Those like us, sir, we have to stick together for safety. I do not think that any of the staff has the faintest idea about the two of you—except Davey and me.”

“Davey! Good lord, how does he come to know?”

“Well, sir, Davey and I have been together for many years now. I recommended him to Mr Childermass as a coachman when Mr Norrell needed someone to take care of that fine carriage and team of horses. Davey is a big, strong fellow, as you no doubt have noticed, and he is very good with animals. Mr Childermass was quite happy to take him on. It’s not that Davey would have suspected anything about you and Mr Norrell, mind you, being a deal stronger than he is clever, but long ago I told him about Mr Norrell’s feelings for you. Not that I would tell anyone else, sir! I am not one for gossip, but, well, with Davey it was private—and he understands that, too. He’s a sentimental fellow, and he felt quite sorry for Mr Norrell. He’s as happy as I am about the way things have turned out. Don’t worry, sir. If any of the other servants find some clues about you and Mr Norrell, I’ll do my best to explain them in other ways.”

Mr Strange nodded. “Thank you, Lucas. In turn, if Mr Norrell or I can do anything to help you and Davey be secure and comfortable, we would be very happy. But speaking of clues, I would appreciate your advice on something. We have begun to worry about the maids’ noticing that Mr Norrell and I are sleeping together in his bedroom now. They go in there once a week to dust and pick up the laundry and so on. The guest-room in which I initially stayed was not used for long, and it is quite obvious from Mr Norrell’s bedroom that two people are occupying it. If one of the maids were to realize that we are lovers, she could put us in considerable danger through idle talk in the village. At worst, the local constabulary might come to hear of it, and from there it might even get into the newspapers. Do you think that I should move back into the other room? I would be reluctant to do that, since we both so enjoy being together while we sleep. But I will do it if you think it wise.”

Lucas thought for a moment. “I expect that you are safe enough, sir. I’m not sure the girls would know enough about such things even to suspect that the two of you are so very close. And Mrs Greeley? No more than them, I should say. And if they ask why you share a bed, well, there could be reasons given. Perhaps we could say that with the difficulty of getting large supplies of firewood, you are only heating one bedroom. Or that Mr Norrell gets frightened of mice and the like and he cannot sleep without you there to protect him. Something of the sort. I think they would believe that, having put up with many of his little frights in the past.” 

“You are very clever, Lucas, and kind. I am actually glad that you discovered our secret. You make me quieter in my mind about the whole situation. Thank you. I shall continue to share Mr Norrell’s bed.”

Lucas nodded sagely. “You do that, sir. It’s the best way. Curled up together. That’s how Davey and I sleep.” With that he picked up the tray of glasses and took it out to the kitchen.


	7. Discussing the Past

THE SEVENTEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT  
On the mornings after the two magicians had declared their love, they took to lingering over breakfast once the servants had cleared away and left them alone to sip their tea. Their fingers played together across the table as they talked. Knowing that they now belonged to each other, they shared a curiosity to learn more about their respective backgrounds.

On the second morning Mr Strange broke a short, companionable silence by saying, “I have been thinking over all the things about your unhappy youth that you told me the day before yesterday. Did you ever try to contact your nurse—Mrs Thorpe? And by the way, how old were you when your uncle died?”

“I was twenty-two. That was quite fortunate for me. I was just young enough that my uncle never became too pressing in his wishes for me to marry. And just old enough to be able to take over his entire estate without having to put up with the control of a guardian. I am sure that any guardian appointed by my uncle would have been quite intolerable. As to Mrs Thorpe, yes, once he died, I tried to find her. Nine years had passed, however, and the problem was that she apparently left Yorkshire for new employment. That was according to what I could learn from the other servants. They thought she had gone to Europe somewhere, accompanying a family with some small children. At that time, of course, I did not know nearly as much about magic as I do now. I certainly did not know how to locate people at a distance. It was not until 1814, when you were kind enough to show me how such a thing could be done that I mastered that sort of magic. I tried unsuccessfully to find out where she was at that point, but I knew it was hardly likely she could still have been alive by then.”

He paused for a long time before continuing. “Whatever good was instilled in me as a child came from her—but it was not enough. She coddled and protected me and made me feel safe and loved, all of which I of course found very pleasant. Still, she did not push me to be self-reliant and confident, to make friends and so on. Not that I had many opportunities to do so, living in the country and being privately educated. I discovered magic when I was twelve, from reading a loose page I found inserted into a book in my uncle’s library. It set me ablaze with enthusiasm and gave me a purpose in life. She encouraged me in that as well, though she had no understanding at all of what it was that I loved. She only knew that it made me happy.

“And she spoiled me dreadfully. I suppose that is why I became so dependent on the servants and especially Childermass. I was simply used to being protected and to having my every whim catered to. When she left, I was utterly alone, though most of the servants were nice enough and continued to do everything for me.” 

Mr Strange leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Well, I suppose that it is too late for you to learn completely new ways. Although I do not promise to cater to absolutely any whim you may have, I find that I quite like pampering you. In fact, I forbid you to learn to button your own clothes properly! That is my pleasant task.”

“Thank you. But what was worse, naturally without Mrs Thorpe to care for me, I became quite terrified of the world. Magic was all I had left, and I lived for my books.” He shook his head. “I do hate being so afraid of everything!”

“Gilbert, do not worry. You now know that I shall always be here to protect you. And why would you not deserve to be protected? Think of the countless people you protected during the war. Your system of defenses around the coasts, your flood-control projects. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, did not need to fear because you banished so many dangers. But you are not as fearful as you were, in my opinion. Your willingness to pursue our plans about managing the Darkness and travel to as-yet-unknown destinations suggests to me that you have gained considerable courage. If you are not afraid of such adventures, what does it matter if a mouse makes you skittish?”

Mr Norrell looked into his eyes as he spoke, and a smile slowly appeared on his face. He lifted Mr Strange’s hand to his lips, kissed it and held it to his cheek.

Mr Strange sought to change the subject. “But it’s interesting that my upbringing has a few things in common with yours. My mother was absolutely wonderful, but she died when I was only four years old. My father was the opposite—absolutely dreadful. He was not cruel physically—at least, he never beat me, and I never saw him strike my mother. But he was a tyrannical, mean man, without a kind bone in his body. He mistreated the servants as well. I do not know why my mother married him. Admittedly, he was a fairly wealthy local landowner, but her family was not poor. Perhaps he summoned a modicum of charm during the courtship. No doubt she soon learned that he was more interested in producing an heir than in loving his wife.

“My mother also encouraged me in my infant interests and whims, but she was not in a position to protect me from my father. The only thing that made life at all bearable after her death was that I spent half of each year with my cousins in Edinburgh. Three girls. They spoiled me shamefully. Not coddling or protecting me. Quite the contrary, they encouraged me in my wildness and my tendency to show off and my … arrogance, I suppose. They would contrive to keep me from being caught or blamed for the silly things I did. Once I grew up and returned to living at home, I sought escape not in books but in dissolute companions. I drank far too much, gambled at billiards and cards, sang choruses alongside drunken friends in taverns, reveled in hunting and played japes with my friends.

“What really pulled me away from such pursuits was my love for Arabella—and hers for me. I confess that I never fully gave up drinking a bit too much, which worried her. You already have helped me in that.”

“Oh, I am not a teetotaler. I enjoy a little sherry before dinner, or madeira-wine after.”

“Really, Gilbert. You are positively abstemious compared to me in those days!”

“Well, I would not want to overindulge. During my time in London I had no choice but to attend social functions for the good of English magic, and I saw how much almost everyone drank. As far as I was concerned, it just made them all the more raucous and unpleasant. There was very fine wine served at the many dinners I had to attend, of course, and I rather got used to a glass or two while eating. That was pleasant enough. You and I could have wine with dinner. The cellar is very well stocked, especially with a fine claret that I am partial to. I would not, however, want to encourage you to go back to your old ways.”

“No. I do not think that I shall do that. I shall be content with the occasional bottle of wine shared over dinner with you, perhaps to toast some of our more notable discoveries. But to go back to my dissolute youth. I suppose that when I discovered magic, I practiced it in somewhat the same way as I had taken my entertainment before. As a game, as a pleasant way in which I could show off, have fun. It was not until I met you that I learned to love it as a beautiful, fascinating thing in itself and as a useful way to help others. I … I believe that I am a considerably better man now than I was before. You have taught me much beyond magic, though I do not think that I have realized it until now.”

“Perhaps. I hope so, but to me you are still the same wonderful Mr Strange whom I first knew.”

“By the way, Gilbert, I have never thought to ask you, but how old are you?”

Mr Norrell pressed his lips together nervously but replied, “I am fifty-two years old.” 

Mr Strange recalled that nine years earlier, when he had cast his first spell and seen Mr Norrell in the mirror, he had thought that he looked around fifty. In fact he had only been forty-three at the time. But Mr Norrell’s scholarly demeanour and old-fashioned clothing and wig had obviously made him appear older than he actually was. Yet he hardly seemed to have aged since then. He apparently was one of those people who spent a long stretch of their adulthood looking as if they could be almost any age.

“And you?” asked Mr Norrell, looking as though he was not sure that he wanted to know the answer.

“I am thirty-seven.” Mr Norrell looked slightly distressed at the gap between their ages, though he hardly could have been unaware that there was a considerable one. Mr Strange added with a shrug, “It is really not all that great a difference. And to two people who may live an indefinitely long time, the gap hardly seems significant at all. It does not bother me, I assure you.” 

Mr Norrell, who was still holding Mr Strange’s hand, squeezed it.

Mr Strange voiced another of the topics that had teased at his thoughts lately.

“During all those years, weren’t you attracted to some other men? Childermass seems quite an appealing devil.”

Mr Norrell sighed, “Yes, Childermass. I definitely found him quite attractive. Indeed, at times he proved most inconveniently distracting when I needed to concentrate on an important project. After I first noticed the effect he had on me, I considered dismissing him, but he was so efficient and intelligent. He knew exactly the sorts of things I needed done, both professionally and personally. He was irreplaceable. I recognized that from early on. Still, there were times when we had to work close together, and I … would have to make an excuse and go to my bedroom to … uh …”

“Yes, I understand.”

Mr Norrell chuckled. “I didn’t have nearly as many headaches as my staff thought I did! My ‘headache’ was often simply a very urgent itch in my breeches. But I assure you, although I fantasized about him quite a bit during those sessions in my bedroom, I was never in love with him. For one thing, he was a servant—“

“Of sorts.”

“Yes. And beyond that, it quickly became apparent to me that he very much enjoyed women. A good thing, too, or I might have been so strongly tempted by him that I would have tried to … to…”

Mr Strange nodded. “Quite. By the way, he once told me that he had worked for you for twenty-six years. You must both have been quite young when you hired him.”

“Yes, I was twenty-five and having considerable problems taking care of my own estate. I only cared for reading, and I needed someone who could help me acquire the books to build up my library. I had lawyers and bankers taking care of my business affairs, but I needed someone who could live in Hurtfew and help me with the library and the magic. Childermass had a shady past, and he was very young, only about twenty when he first applied to me for a position. I know that my hiring him was looked upon as utter madness by my household staff and business representatives. I sensed, however, his passion for magic, and his talent for it. Frankly, I felt it better to keep him close by me and under my eye, to try and guide and, yes, control him. He was frightfully intelligent as well, and so good at his job that whole thing worked out better than I could have hoped. I believe he has always been quite honest in his dealings on my behalf.

“As you know, I sent him a letter a little over a week ago, describing our situation to him—and, I must admit, apologizing for having sent him away that day when the Darkness arrived at Hurtfew. I have heard nothing, and I fear that my solicitor may not have been able to find him. I still may receive a reply, though. I was thinking of hiring him to act as a buyer for me, keeping an eye open for rare books, and he could deal with other business without joining us here. Wherever we may end up traveling, I certainly do not wish entirely to lose contact with him. Speaking of traveling, we should take up our researches once more. I am quite eager to make good progress toward that goal.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Their work was interrupted late that morning by the arrival of three local tradesmen. There was the tailor, Mr Westgate, as promised. And also as promised, he was accompanied by a shoemaker, Mr Ford, who had brought a great many pairs of boots and shoes for Mr Strange to try on, and by Mr Green, a barber.

The altered clothes fit very well, and Mr Strange picked out several pairs of footwear of various types suited to the planned travels.

During this process, Mr Norrell had his curly brown and grey hair trimmed short by Mr Green. Then it was Mr Strange’s turn, and barber soon had him looking respectable again.

Mr Norrell paid the three for their travel time as well as services, and they said they would be happy to reassure any other tradesmen whom the magicians might wish to have visit Hurtfew Abbey.

“Well, that is a relief!” remarked Mr Strange after they left. “I was afraid that if Mr Westgate were unable to make the adjustments in the promised time, the delay might lead to our having to postpone our departure. Now I am well outfitted for any circumstances we might encounter.”

Mr Norrell, who had donned his wig and returned to his desk, looked up at him. Mr Strange was still wearing the most elegant of the suits provided by Mr Westgate, as well as a new shirt, cravat and waistcoat. The ensemble was completed by white stockings and black evening pumps. 

“Mr Strange, you look just as you did when we had our joint portrait painted!”

“Oh, I must have changed at least a little since then.”

“Perhaps, but you are still as handsome and dashing as ever.”

“If so, then you are as … but, no, I am not permitted to say those words. And I would ask you not to think back to the conversation during which you forbade me to apply them to you, for I would not wish for you to be in the slightest distressed at the recollection of them.” 

THE EIGHTEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

By the next day, Mr Strange and Mr Norrell had exchanged pleasure through fingering four times, and Mr Strange decided that they might as well move on to full penetration. After breakfast he asked Mr Norrell to share again a break from their researches in their bedroom in the late morning, before lunch. 

“If you agree, I think it is time for us to make the final step and go from using our fingers to this,” he said, gesturing down into his lap, “to go inside each other.”

Mr Norrell smiled and nodded. “Yes, let’s! Say in two hours, then?” He turned over the hourglass on his desk.

“Fine. Gilbert, you do not seem to be at all nervous about it. I am rather surprised.”

“No, I am not nervous. After all, everything we have done together so far has been wonderful, and I want us to experience pleasure together in any way you recommend.”

“Hah! Pastor Granger be damned!”

“Oh, Mr Strange, really. I am sure he was or is quite a pleasant man in most ways. Up until that horrible day, he was, as I said, invariably nice to me. That was precisely why I chose him to speak to.”

“All right, I take back the damnation I called down upon his head. Since you have so effectively conquered the fears he instilled in you, I suppose we can afford to be magnanimous.” He made a flicking gesture with one hand, as if shooing away a fly. Neither Mr Strange nor Mr Norrell ever mentioned him again.

++++++++++++++

The two met in the bedroom an hour before lunch. They shared a lengthy, slow kiss, with their tongues slipping briefly into each other’s mouths and tantalizingly withdrawing. At first they merely embraced, but soon their hands slid to unfasten their garments.

At last they moved apart, silently watching each other remove those garments until they faced each other naked. Mr Strange took Mr Norrell’s hand and drew him onto the bed. They relaxed into the pillows heaped against the headboard, Mr Strange’s fingers stroking the palm of his lover’s hand soothingly. His cock was already nearly half erect, and he noted that Mr Norrell was not far behind him in that regard.

Mr Norrell looked at him curiously. “How do we go about this?”  


Mr Strange hesitated. “Well, the logical way to do this, since I am more experienced than you, would be for me to go inside you. I would know better how to be careful and so on. As I’ve suggested, this particular act almost inevitably hurts a bit to begin with. But … I know you are very cautious, and the preparations involve much the same sort of fingering that we have been exploring over the past days. Somehow I feel it might be better if you were to try and penetrate me to begin with. That is, if you don’t feel so disgusted when it comes to the actual moment of penetration that you lose your arousal. This,” he said, gesturing to Mr Norrell’s member, “needs to be quite firm in order to enter through such a small opening, even after preparation.”

Mr Norrell considered this before replying, “I could certainly try. I do not think that I would be disgusted. In a way, putting my fingers inside you initially seemed more unpleasant and unnatural than putting my member would be. But I got used to that.”

Mr Strange laughed. “ʽUsed to it’ is a considerable understatement, I should say.”

Mr Norrell blushed and said quietly, “Well, it is so extremely pleasurable.”

“Yes. All right, let us try it as I suggested, with you ‘on top,’ as they say. Then later, after we try it the other way round, with me on top, you may find that you strongly prefer one or the other. Either way, I hope you will find it a joyous experiment!”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Ah, I shall keep that a secret for now. If I told you, I am sure that you would very kindly express a preference for the other, just to please me, but I want to know your true opinion. And I should add, some men find both equally pleasurable.”

“I shall hope that I do, then. If I turn out to prefer the same way that you do, though, I suppose we shall simply take turns.”

“Yes. In fact, if we should want to make love in this way twice in one day, it would be a good idea to alternate anyway. I should warn you that the person penetrated will be somewhat sore back there for awhile. It is not usually a good idea to be ‘on the bottom’ again so soon after doing it once.”

Mr Strange felt rather odd lecturing his lover on the subject, but he suspected that this mundane discussion of the practicalities of anal sex helped keep Mr Norrell remarkably calm, given his earlier fears.

They indulged in another lengthy kiss, and this time they allowed it to rapidly become voracious. Their fingers played over each other’s swelling erections until Mr Strange pushed Mr Norrell’s hand away. “I am getting too close! You should move down between my legs now, as when you first fingered me.”

Mr Strange slid down to a reclining position and placed two pillows under his hips, hoping to enable Mr Norrell to thrust against his prostate without difficulty. In the meantime, Mr Norrell grasped the jar of salve from the bedside table and moved to kneel in position.

“Nearly empty,” he said, holding the jar up for Mr Strange to see.

“We have quite a few more jars. Believe me, that is one item that I would never leave off our list for the chemist.”

“Oh, I know, but I mean …”

“Yes, we are emptying this first one quite quickly!”

Mr Norrell opened the jar and placed his hands on Mr Strange’s bent knees, the jar in one hand and the lid in the other. His gaze wandered over his lover’s beautifully fit body and the nearly erect member lying against his stomach. His mouth slackened with desire, and he was panting slightly. 

Mr Strange watched him with great pride. How greatly the man’s natural desires and his developing skill had reduced his squeamishness and reticence, in only a little over a week! It was awkward for him to reach out to caress Mr Norrell, but he smiled delightedly up at him.

Suddenly Mr Norrell stretched his head downward to lick and kiss Mr Strange’s cock up and down, slowly and delicately. His hands were still atop Mr Strange’s knees, and Mr Strange reached up and took the top of the jar from one of them, placing it on the table. Mr Norrell immediately used the free hand to bring the erection upright so that he could slip his mouth over the end. His eyelids drooped as he sucked it languorously. Mr Strange gasped at the sight.

This went on long enough that Mr Strange began to wonder whether the other magician had forgotten which sort of lovemaking they had settled upon for their romantic interlude. It felt so good that he was reluctant to bring it to an end. At last, however, Mr Norrell lifted his head and inched his knees backward. He pushed slightly on Mr Strange’s knees. Mr Strange grasped his own legs just below the knees and pulled, so that his private area was more fully open to his lover’s gaze.

Mr Norrell stared at it for a short time, his free hand delicately rubbing the testicle sac. Finally he seemed to make a decision and said without looking up, “Do you want me to lick it? As you did to me the other day?”

Mr Strange was startled. It had not occurred to him that Mr Norrell would ever be willing to perform such a very intimate act. “I would love it, Gilbert, but do not do it if you are reluctant.”

“I …” Abruptly Mr Norrell bent down and gently put the tip of his tongue against the puckered ring, flicking at the center and the area around it until Mr Strange was whimpering quietly.

Mr Norrell made no effort to try and relax the tight opening with his tongue, simply continuing in his delicate exploration. All too soon he pulled away, obviously considering that that was quite enough for now. At least he did not look repulsed. Mr Strange considered that he could wait until another time to offer some advice on how to go about this activity. That Mr Norrell should have wanted to experiment at all in this direction was encouraging—and pleasant while it lasted.

Mr Norrell straightened up and scooped up a dab of salve with one finger. Mr Strange adjusted the pillows under his hips slightly and relaxed into the bedclothes, watching his lover with a smile of anticipation.

Mr Norrell edged forward again, smearing the salve on Mr Strange’s anus and rubbing for a short time with his forefinger before slipping it slowly inside. After four days of such insertions, the process had become easier for both, and the finger was soon buried. Mr Norrell curled it to rub against the small gland at the front, and Mr Strange immediately jerked and moaned. Mr Norrell soon pulled out his finger and added more salve as he inserted a second and returned to tickling the prostate.

Mr Strange was writhing in bliss, but he reached down to still his lover’s hand. “I believe you must stop that now. It feels exquisite, but now we want to go further, and I need to be more open to you. Aim more at the loosening process than at immediate pleasure, and this time add a third finger when you think I am ready for it.”

Mr Norrell nodded and dipped into the jar again. This time he moved back in very slowly, his eyes intent on Mr Strange’s face in case signs of pain appeared there. He had not used three fingers before, and he took a long time in adding the third and in moving the fingers inward. He kept tilting his head down to judge his progress. His concern had caused his erection to lose some of its hardness.

At last he looked up at Mr Strange, his face betraying the first signs of uncertainty since they had begun. “I don’t know … do you think you are ready?”

“I believe so. But perhaps you are not … quite.” 

He struggled to rise to a sitting position, though the pillows made it difficult. He held himself up with a hand planted on the mattress and used the other to pull Mr Norrell forward between his thighs until their members were pressed together. Mr Norrell leaned in so that Mr Strange could embrace him. They kissed wetly, their lips drawn back and tongues sliding lasciviously around each other. Mr Strange moved down to lick Mr Norrell’s nipples, but the strain on his neck was too great, and he rose again to fasten his mouth over his lover’s ear. He could feel the heat of Mr Norrell’s swelling member against his own.

By this point Mr Norrell’s breathing was ragged, and he straightened up.

“Now, Gilbert, let me put some salve on this,” Mr Strange said, touching his lover’s rock-hard member. He dipped two fingers into the jar, which Mr Norrell was still holding atop his knee. He rubbed the viscous material onto the straining erection, using little circle motions that left Mr Norrell whimpering with delight. When he was finished, he set the jar on the bedside table.

Mr Norrell placed the tip at Mr Strange’s slightly gaping entrance and pushed it inside. The pain was slight and momentary, and Mr Strange moaned his encouragement as Mr Norrell gradually buried himself in a series of short thrusts. They paused for a moment, and Mr Strange nodded.

Mr Norrell held onto the other magician’s knees and began to move in and out, gasping with pleasure as Mr Strange tightened his inner muscles to grasp at the shaft on each pull outward. Mr Strange shifted slightly, and the thick column inside him began to press against his most sensitive point. “A little harder,” he gasped.

Mr Norrell complied as he quickly fell into an easy rhythm of clenching the muscles of his buttocks and rolling his pelvis, making them both utter a hoarse groan with each stroke. 

“Oh, that’s perfect! Make it last, Gilbert, please,” Mr Strange begged. He knew that by now Mr Norrell was quite adept at holding off his own climax in order to linger over pleasure. He had never mentioned to Mr Norrell that he should stroke his cock during the last part of their climb toward bliss, but he decided that he would deal with that himself during this first time. 

Initially Mr Norrell seemed content to go on as long as possible, and he continued at the same pace for several minutes, a slight grimace on his face as he drifted in bliss. Eventually, however, he began to go slightly faster, keening softly. Mr Strange reached down to grasp his own member and began to slide his fingers up and down it. “Harder, Gilbert. Now, please, I need it!”

Mr Norrell opened his eyes slightly and then more fully as he saw what Mr Strange was doing. He thrust harder and faster, watching, riveted, as Mr Strange’s hand closed tight around his own erection and jerked frantically on it. Abruptly a jet of creamy liquid spurted forth, splattering along Mr Strange’s chest and belly. Other jets followed, until the flow decreased and the small, final jolts of pleasure sent a few more drops over the top of the man’s fist.

Mr Norrell managed to cry, “Oh, Mr Strange!” as his body stiffened and he tried to keep thrusting as he lost control. His face twisted into a mask of ecstasy and his fingernails dug into his lover’s knees as he spent deep inside Mr Strange.

Both of them were still for a moment, panting as they savored the soft tingling sensation in their loins. Mr Norrell remained kneeling between Mr Strange’s legs, resting his hands on his knees. As Mr Norrell’s dizziness drained away, he looked down at the glistening, pearly drops on his lover’s belly and chest. He took the handkerchief that Mr Strange handed him and carefully withdrew, cleaning his shrinking member and catching the liquid oozing from Mr Strange’s opening.

Mr Strange watched with a lazy smile, mentally noting the fact that his lover was still not calling him by his first name, even in the throes of passion. 

He expected the other magician to wipe away the seed from his torso as well. Instead, Mr Norrell carefully folded the cloth clean-side out and laid it aside. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the bed on either side of Mr Strange’s torso. Carefully he licked up the smaller spatters of semen from his stomach and swallowed them. Then he stretched to gather onto his tongue a large gob of it that rested next to a nipple. He spread it on the nipple and swirled it around sensually as the nub hardened. Mr Strange watched all this with fascinated astonishment, gasping with delight. At least Mr Norrell licked the nipple clean and swallowed the last of the seed. He rose and rubbed the cloth gently across the naked stomach and chest to finish cleaning them. He sat back on his feet, looking into Mr Strange’s face with a contented smile.

Mr Strange stared at him in awe. “Where in the world did you learn that?” he asked.

Mr Norrell’s smile faded, and he looked puzzled. “I did not learn it. But you apparently enjoy it when I swallow after you come, and I know you love having your nipples licked. I assumed that you would appreciate it if I did both together in this situation. You obviously like me to do things to you without your having to ask me, so I try, if I can think of something.”

Mr Strange nodded, slipping the pillows from beneath himself and drawing Mr Norrell up to lie in his embrace. He was amazed that this innocent man could come up with something so spontaneous and smutty. “I like it very much, and what you just did was splendid! Who would have thought that your logical reasoning could contribute so much to lovemaking? You are full of surprises!”

“And you are accepting my compliments and even believing them,” he thought, looking into the happy face resting directly beside his own.

They lay silently for a while. Finally Mr Norrell asked, “When can we do this again? I very much enjoyed it, and I am quite curious as to which I prefer.”

“Being on the top or bottom, you mean? We shall investigate. You name the time—as long as it is not in a mere hour or two—which I would not put past you, you randy fellow. But just now I am a bit sore and distinctly satiated.”

“No, no, of course, we will wait as long as you wish. By the way, what did you call me?”

“What? Oh, a randy fellow. And so you are.”

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, it means someone who wants sex quite often—more than the average.”

Mr Norrell smiled uncertainly. “So is that a good thing, a compliment?”

“In your case, definitely! I love it that you want me so much—and so often. Of course, we have not been making love for very long yet, but I truly hope that we never lose any of our passion for each other. Well, shall we get dressed while we talk and then go to the library? I feel I might be able to move.”

He began to sit up, but Mr Norrell cried, “Mr Strange, mind the handkerchief! I am afraid that I left it on the counterpane. Clean side down, but still, I believe it is a trifle sticky.”

“Oh, yes, I see. The incriminating handkerchief! By the way, as you may have guessed, we have come to the point where we must be particularly careful not to put any of the handkerchiefs that we use during our pleasurable activities into the laundry without rinsing them out. And we must inspect the sheets afterward and rinse them if necessary. I shall, as usual, take that responsibility, but if I forget, you must remind me.”

“Yes, and we need to get a new jar of salve from wherever you are keeping it.” Mr Norrell picked up the now-empty jar they had just used, looking quite smug. “We shall require it next time. And could that next time be tomorrow, before lunch? Or possibly shortly after breakfast?” 

“Yes, before lunch. It worked perfectly today, so why not do the same?”

THE NINETEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The lovemaking the next morning proved equally successful. Mr Norrell betrayed no signs of nervousness. Mr Strange, however, found himself distinctly worried at the point where it came to putting his erection inside the smaller man. Indeed, it turned out to be not quite firm enough to go in. He began to frig himself, but Mr Norrell, who had been on his back, sat up and stroked Mr Strange’s cock, looking up at him with a little smile. Returning his look, Mr Strange felt his member becoming rapidly engorged. “Gilbert,” he whispered.

Once he had become completely hard, he said, “Lie back down.” He very slowly pushed himself about halfway into Mr Norrell’s tight passage, allowing his lover to murmur instructions to him about when to move forward. Toward the end, feeling his own climax approaching, he grasped Mr Norrell’s cock and rapidly stroked it. 

Mr Norrell groaned loudly with each thrust and finally rolled his head back into the pillow and shouted out his bliss. Watching him, Mr Strange spent as well, struggling to keep his hand going on Mr Norrell’s slicked erection.

They lay side by side afterward, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.

Mr Strange lazily ran his fingers over Mr Norrel’s short brown hair. “And?”

Mr Norrell had been about to dose off, and he raised his head with a jerk. “I beg your pardon?”

“And do you know which you prefer, or must we experiment further?”

Mr Norrell was hesitant to state his decision, since he feared that his preference might be the same as Mr Strange’s. Eventually he said, “I … I like it better this way.”

Mr Strange grinned. “Really? Excellent, because I prefer the other way. Tell me what you liked better about this time, please.”

Mr Strange’s reaction was too enthusiastic and his smile too delighted for Mr Norrell to entertain any doubts that he was being truthful about his preference. He replied, “It was so good to have you inside me at the back and yet also using your hand on me in the front. The combination was … just … extraordinary. And I loved how it felt when your cock was deep inside, pressing so hard in exactly the right place. So intense! Of course, I very much enjoyed yesterday as well. I would be happy to switch on occasion, if you like, as you suggested.”

“Perfect. I do occasionally get the urge to feel those sensations that you describe, so I will take you up on that offer.”


	8. Receiving Remarkable News

THE NINETEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT continued

Early in the afternoon, Mr Strange was sitting at Mr Norrell’s large desk, looking over the latter’s notes upon spells concerning applying great forces to cause objects to move through space and writing a few suggestions in the margins. He glanced up briefly as Lucas came in and handed the day’s mail to Mr Norrell, who was reading and taking notes at the central table.

Mr Strange went on working for a few minutes when Mr Norrell suddenly stood up, crying, “Good Lord!” He was holding a letter of several pages that he continued to read intently as he walked over toward him. Mr Strange put down his quill and sat back expectantly in his chair.

Mr Norrell came to a halt in front of the desk and looked at him, wide-eyed. “I have finally had a response from Childermass! I was afraid after a week and a half of not receiving a reply that my solicitor had not been able to find him, but it turns out that he is living at a rather rundown inn in York.”

“That makes sense. He is from this area, and why would he leave? I would imagine he would want to keep track of what happened to us, and particularly you, as a result of the Darkness. I suppose he might wish to return to your employment, as some of the other … that is, as some of the servants have. I wonder if he is in need of money, if he is at such an undesirable establishment.”

Mr Norrell ignored this, staring again at the letter, and blurted out, “The remarkable thing is that he has taken up with Vinculus, of all people! They are sharing a room at the inn. He tells me that Vinculus turned out to be the Book of the Raven King!”

Mr Strange stared at him for a moment, baffled. “To be the lost Book itself? How can that possibly be? It makes no sense.”

Mr Norrell shook his head in amazement. “I do not fully understand it. The text was written all over his body in dark blue writing of some sort. Somewhat similar in appearance, I gather, to the barbaric painting of the skin which is practiced by the natives of the South Sea Islands. I remember seeing a hint of such a thing on his neck on the occasion when he invaded my home. I am sure that when you were studying with me, I told you about that horrible incident. That bit of writing puzzled me very much, and he seemed suddenly less confident when he realized that I had glimpsed it. At any rate, he quickly pulled his filthy cravat over his neck to cover the writing. In his letter, Childermass has copied a few of the signs that he remembers seeing on Vinculus’ skin, but he could make nothing of them, and neither can I.”

He leaned over the desk and showed the page to Mr Strange.

“No, they mean nothing to me, either. These are the ones that he remembered, you say. Couldn’t he just copy the whole thing from Vinculus’ body? Or send Vinculus here to show us himself? Maybe together you and I could learn the secret of reading them.”

“Bizarrely enough, neither is possible. According to Childermass, during the events of that extraordinary day nearly three weeks ago now, the writing on Vinculus suddenly changed. Looking back on it, he thinks that a mysterious man he met near the tree where Vinculus was hanged--ˮ

“Hanged! But how—ˮ 

“Never mind that now. That point is, Childermass believes this man was none other than John Uskglass--ˮ

“John Uskglass himself? Then that must be why your location spell showed him to be here in Yorkshire that night!”

“Yes, apparently. Childermass says that Uskglass revived Vinculus after the hanging and rewrote him, as it were. There was a whole new set of mysterious blue signs, making up a completely different text. But this is the most amazing thing of all! Vinculus told Childermass that the original version of the book was a set of prophecies of the Raven King, largely about you and me and the return of magic to England! I assume they included the prophecies that Vinculus kept babbling to us and anyone he met—the ones about ‘Two magicians shall appear in England,’ and so on.”

“Well, if he could read himself, cannot he now at least summarize to Childermass what the original version of the writing said?”

“No, he could not read himself, according to what he told Childermass. There used to be generations of Readers who knew the King’s signs, and the most recent one read aloud parts of the text for Vinculus to memorize. But after he died, there was no one to read out the rest of it. No one had been taught to be the new Reader.”

Mr Norrell dropped into a chair near the desk where Mr Strange was sitting. They gazed silently at each other for a short time.

Finally Mr Strange said in awe, “The Raven King writing down prophecies about us, who knows how long ago? That is remarkable almost beyond comprehension! And visiting Yorkshire that very night when we needed his help so much. And somehow apparently making our spells work out exactly as we hoped they would.”

Mr Norrell nodded with an overwhelmed air.

Eventually Mr Strange asked, “And the new book? ‘Vinculus Volume 2’ as it were?”

Mr Norrell chuckled briefly. “Well, of course Childermass can no more read this volume than he could the first. He writes that he hopes it will turn out to be a new Book of Magic, a new set of prophecies, possibly also about you and me.” He paused, his face working with emotion. “It stuns me to learn that John Uskglass should write a book about us. Apparently you and I are, as Vinculus told Childermass, in some sense the embodiment of Uskglass’ great spell. As I long ago told you, for a whole decade during my younger days, I desperately tried to contact him. I believed that he had left England and no longer cared anything for its magic. That belief was a tremendous blow to me.

“Yet if all this is true, then remarkably enough, he must somehow have poured much of his power into the two of us, intending for us to be the means by which he returned magic to England. And again, if Childermass is right, he may still be guiding us, using us for some other equally important purpose. That leads me to think that perhaps … perhaps in some way he has given the Darkness to us as a gift. When he dispelled the enchantment of Lady Pole and Mrs Strange, he may have transformed the Fairy’s curse on you into something that could benefit both you and me—a curse transformed into a boon.”

Mr Strange nodded. “We must have sensed that even before you heard from Childermass about this business of Vinculus and the book. We had certainly begun already to view the Darkness in that way—as a great advantage to us both. And you may be right, that it all happened in that way because of John Uskglass. Perhaps that brief, frightening view of the giant raven’s eye looking at us was intended not to intimidate us but to send some sort of signal of encouragement.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “He was mistaken there, for anything less calculated to encourage I cannot imagine. Still, as I suggested recently, working together again at last, we managed splendid magic that night. And I also said that, left on our own for a while, we might be able to devise even more impressive spells. Perhaps we are even now being guided in that direction.”

“Yes, I remember. We may yet discover that that is the case, especially with this extraordinary new encouragement. There is another piece of news in Childermass’ letter, however. He has hopes that if he and the other magicians can decipher the writing, he may find a way to dispel the Darkness or at least to allow us to escape from it.”

“What other magicians?”

“Childermass proposes to reinstate the Learned Society of York Magicians. To revoke the contract that I made them sign, agreeing to give up any claims to being magicians. You remember that I told you about my agreement with them shortly after you became my pupil. At any rate, he has asked for my permission to place an advertisement in the paper announcing his intention to hold a meeting to be attended by anyone who might be interested in magic, or already practicing it. Working together, perhaps they can read ‘Vinculus Volume 2,’ as you so amusingly call it. 

“You were always in favor of opening up the study of magic to all and sundry. In that at least, Childermass seems to agree more with you than with me. And I have to admit, now that England is flooded with the old magic, the best way of controlling that magic may well be to have proper training of magicians—not,” he added in a response to a sharp look from Mr Strange, “just to do respectable magic, though there is still plenty of room for that, but to make sure that incompetent and unbalanced magicians do not commit mischievous acts.”

“I agree with you there, sir. I certainly no longer find any fascination in the mad, uncontrolled aspects of the old magic.”

They were silent once more, pondering the implications of Childermass’ goal.

Finally Mr Strange said reluctantly, “Up to now, we have been working toward dispelling the Darkness.” The pair looked at each other briefly and then dropped their eyes. Mr Strange resumed, “At least we have said that we would, and I suppose we have gathered a few ideas … but do we really want to do it? If what you say is even remotely likely to be true, I cannot help but feel afraid of the idea that Childermass might succeed in rescuing us. In ridding us of the Darkness. Such an act might mean that we lose a great gift that John Uskglass has given us.”

“Exactly. Even before receiving Childermass’s letter, I had been thinking about that question for several days now. I need more time to assimilate this news and its ramifications. I also need to do a bit more reading. I do not want to speak too soon, but I think I may have found some indications of how one might go about using the Darkness to move a large house like Hurtfew once it is detached from its supports. In fact, I was reading about the subject when Lucas brought me the mail and I saw the letter from Childermass.”

A grin spread across Mr Strange’s face as he listened to Mr Norrell. “That’s wonderful news! If you truly are on the point of making a breakthrough, we can contemplate making many exciting plans. But it sounds as though you believe that moving Hurtfew would necessitate our retaining the Darkness as a means of transport? I have been assuming that it probably would.”

“Oh, undoubtedly we would need to use the Darkness to move the house. More generally, the Darkness will become our primary source of magical power for almost everything we do from now on. Assuming, again, that we are right about why we have been placed within it.”

“But if Childermass were suddenly to find a means of dispelling the Darkness, would that not scuttle all that we have been hoping for in the way of traveling within it? Of discovering remarkable new magic and perhaps using it for good purposes? Of possibly, as we learn now, carrying through the Raven King’s as yet unknown intentions for us?”

“Yes. We are both agreed, then, that we must immediately notify Childermass that, if he does discover anything of the sort, he should not try to effect the magic without our permission. I doubt he would act on his own in making such a momentous decision, but we must be sure. But let us talk no further now. I have some ideas that I want to jot down and some references to check. Tomorrow I think I may be able to tell you something more certainly.”

“Is there anything I can do in the meantime to help?”

Mr Norrell smiled and rose to place two large envelopes on the desk, along with the rest of the mail. “You might go through these booksellers’ catalogues that arrived in the same mail. If we are to be leaving soon, I should like to order any items you find there that are missing from the library. We may soon need all the magical resources we can possibly muster. You might also inquire of Davey what progress he is making toward obtaining that light carriage and horse.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention it to you. He told me this morning that he has obtained them and will fetch them tomorrow. I went ahead and gave him the money to pay for them.”

“Ah, splendid!”

Mr Strange smiled and nodded. He felt enormously excited by the possibilities that were opening up before them. He rose and moved to Mr Norrell. “I think this warrants another of our celebratory hugs!”

The two magicians stood tightly embracing for a short time before Mr Strange returned to the desk and began eagerly sorting through the rest of the mail. Mr Norrell moved back to the table and resumed his reading and note-taking.

++++++++++++

After they had worked for a couple of hours, Lucas came in and asked to speak with Mr Strange. So as not to disturb Mr Norrell, Mr Strange followed Lucas out into the hallway for their conversation.

“Sir, I have been talking with the other servants. We have agreed that we would prefer to stay overnight—well, that is to say, we want to go back to living at Hurtfew Abbey as we did before the Darkness arrived. It is not the most cheerful place to be, but none of us feels at all afraid of being here, as we did when the Darkness first arrived. The time it takes us to get home and back turns out to mean that we are getting less sleep than we need.”

“Yes, I can imagine. So from now on, you all want to return to your old rooms?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve brought our things back, so starting tonight, with your permission—“

“Oh, certainly. We should be most pleased. We would need to purchase more foodstuffs in future, of course.”

“Thank you, sir. We find that, what with the various errands we go on and some little walks we take outside the archway, we can get some sunshine and feel more cheerful.”

“To be sure. Frankly, having no such option, I envy you that. Please, tell the others that they may take such walks any time they feel the need of it. There will also most likely in the near future be more errands into the village and even into Great Ouseburn.”

Lucas thanked him and went to inform the others. Mr Strange reflected that this was a promising development and went back into the library.

Mr Norrell was pacing slowly, sunk in thought, but he looked up inquiringly as Mr Strange appeared.

“Good news, Gilbert. The servants want to live here at Hurtfew from now on. I have told Lucas that they may take walks outside the Darkness to lift their spirits when they feel like it.”

“Won’t they be neglecting their duties if they take too much time off to do so? Given what I am paying them, I hardly think—ˮ

“In my opinion, we are expecting a great deal of them, Gilbert. Surely we can make this little concession to keep them happy to be here. After all, we may soon be asking them to make an even greater and more frightening commitment to us.”

“Yes, I suppose that you are right. You are so good at these sorts of things, Mr Strange. Thank you for dealing with them.”

“You are quite welcome. Have you made any progress in your researches?”

“Yes, some. Perhaps tomorrow, after a little more work, I shall be able to lay out my ideas about our future activities for you. I am afraid that I shall be staying up late tonight, reading. You need not do the same, but I hope that for at least a few hours we may hold each other as we sleep.”

“I hope so indeed. I had hoped that we might have another chance to make love this evening. This morning begins to seem very long ago. Still, if you are on the verge of a break-through, that naturally takes precedence.”

Mr Norrell nodded. They stared wistfully at each other for a moment, but soon a gong rang in the distance, barely audible in the library. Mr Strange smiled. “Dinner time. At least we may relax a little and talk of other things.” 

THE TWENTIETH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Late the next morning the pair returned to the library and sat, as they so often did, on a sopha beside the fire that Mr Strange had built up into a comforting blaze. Mr Norrell was, after all, subject to feeling the cold.

Mr Norrell gazed into the flames for a short time as Mr Strange watched him expectantly. Finally he turned and looked into his lover’s eyes. “Mr Strange, much of what I am going to tell you assumes that Childermass is right, and that we are destined to do things written in this new book which Mr Vinculus embodies. But as you know, you and I had already decided to set out on our own, to dare much and to explore magic still undreamt of by either of us. Perhaps without realizing it, we have started carrying through the prophecies in ‘Vinculus Volume 2.’ Which in turn suggests that Childermass is right in considering them to be prophecies.”

Mr Strange nodded solemnly. 

Mr Norrell continued, “Possibly in the future we can do on a larger scale what we did here in this library not quite three weeks ago. We might be able to tame black magic when it is practiced, wherever that may be. We can defeat curses, or alter them, as John Uskglass apparently altered the Fairy’s curse upon us, in ways that benefit those who have been victimised. What a challenge that would be!”

“Yes. I thought that I was made a magician in order to save Arabella from her enchantment. But that may just have been the beginning. Imagine if we could so the same thing for others in similar predicaments! And really, there is no one else who could do such things. At least, no one we know about, no one using English magic. There may be other magicians in other countries, in other worlds. We could meet them and learn from them and maybe even work with them. What a prospect!”

Mr Norrell nodded enthusiastically and went on. “Last night I wrote a letter to Childermass, and it has been put in the box to be picked up. It tells him that on no account should he try to dispel the Darkness or rescue us from it. But upon thinking it over, I doubt that even if he and the other magicians should manage to read Mr Vinculus, they would find a means of doing so. After all, if the new book of John Uskglass is indeed a foretelling of how you and I shall use English magic now that it has returned—“

“—then we are destined to live for a very long time in the Darkness … and so there will be nothing in the new writing on Vinculus that would allow Childermass, or indeed us, to dispel the Darkness!”

“Precisely! Still, I wanted to tell him that and to explain some of the decisions we have made since his momentous letter arrived.”

Mr Strange hesitated before asking, “Has Childermass’ news led you to reconsider inviting him to join us in the darkness, in our travels and adventures and experiments? He probably is the third most skilled magician in England, and I suspect he would be excited at the prospect.”

“Oh, most surely he would, whether or not he ultimately decided to accept our invitation. Yes, he is a skilled magician, and he may have the makings of a great one—though not, I venture to say, one equal to either of us. But that is precisely why I am disinclined to invite him to join us. I think he might perform a more essential role in the promotion of English magic by staying here and becoming the leader in the guidance of promising new magicians—as well as in the discouragement of charlatans and incompetents.”

“But could he gain the respect of all these new magicians, many of whom are fairly wealthy people? My impression is that he has always been held back by his social class.”

Mr Norrell said sadly, “Yes, and that is in part due to me. I could never overlook the fact that he was my servant. And he had such an enthusiasm for the Raven King, though he strove not to flaunt that in my face too often. I was certainly aware of it, though, which is no doubt why I sought to limit how much magic he learned. Knowing what I know now, I certainly would have encouraged him more. As it is, I merely turned a blind eye to his habit of sneaking looks into my books of magic—though I’m sure he did that a great deal more than I was aware of. I did allow him to use simple spells, but only ones that I gave him for specific purposes—like the ones that Vinculus stole and you eventually bought. Childermass no doubt did other magic on his own, but I was seldom aware of it. He hid it well! 

“Still, if you and I were to send a message to the group, giving him our heartiest endorsements, no doubt they would accept him readily. Childermass mentioned to me that the magicians have tended to divide into ‘Norrellites’ and ‘Strangites” and to be highly contentious as a result. Obviously we still have considerable influence with them. A joint message from you and me might well make them more inclined to cooperate. I hope so.”

Mr Strange hesitated before asking, “Even so, do you not think it would be advantageous to have both Childermass and Vinculus—another ‘English magician’ after all—here in the Darkness with us? Surely the three of us would have a better chance at deciphering this new ‘book’ if we were together and had it in front of us.”

“Oh, I suppose in a way it would be, but I simply could not face having Vinculus constantly with us here. As you say, he is an English magician of sorts and could end up permanently trapped here with us.” He shuddered before continuing, “Besides, if he really carries a book of prophecies about us, are we not more obliged to go forward with carrying through the actions prophecied than with trying to read about them? Childermass seems to have taken on the translation of ‘Vinculus Volume 2’ as a deep personal commitment. After all, the ‘book’ was delivered to Childermass rather than to us, and so he may well be the new Reader destined to interpret it. Besides, he apparently is resigned to having the wretched fellow constantly at his side. If so, better him than us, say I.” 

After a brief silence Mr Norrell chuckled suddenly. “It is just as well. Given that Childermass is such an attractive man, I don’t particularly want him anywhere near you!”

“Good God, are you teasing me, Gilbert? Well, if so, it is a reasonably creditable attempt, and you should carry on! And in the same spirit I may say, I feel exactly the same way. I do not want him anywhere near you. Especially now that I know you used to fantasize about him quite intimately.”

Mr Norrell laughed aloud at that. “That is the first time anyone has ever been jealous concerning me. Romantically jealous, that is. I know many have been jealous concerning my library and magical skills. But romantically, no. I must say, it makes me feel rather pleased.”

“I’m glad. Well, you and he had a long association. Who knows what secret yearning for you he might have felt?”

Mr Norrel shook his head, still amused. “I seriously doubt that. But at any rate, I still cannot imagine inviting any one to risk becoming trapped with us in the Darkness. We have grown used to it, and now we even suspect its great potential. That is because we are unique and because we have each other. And we are evidently intended to be here. But to take responsibility for putting someone else in the same position? No.”

He paused for a moment, the humor disappearing from his face. “Mr Strange, you have said you wish to stay with me forever. But surely you do not wish to break off contact with Mrs Strange altogether. You would certainly want to assure that she has your income and is well. Perhaps you would wish for her to visit you here at Hurtfew, when we are in some easily accessible location. She would not be trapped in the Darkness, of course, and could stay for a time or even travel a little with us. Oh, I should mention to you something that occurred to me last night. Magicians’ houses have been known to disappear after they abandon them. That is to say, they are not exactly gone, but they are invisible to all but a very few. In the past, it was not an uncommon phenomenon. It is quite possible that my house in Hanover-square and both your London and Shropshire houses will disappear in this way when we leave England. You should make sure that Mrs Strange has enough money to purchase another for herself.”

Mr Strange replied, “Oh! I not realized that. I shall certainly arrange for her to have my modest fortune. As to visits, I wonder if she would wish to come to Hurtfew. She has been wonderfully adaptable to my career, but ultimately she has no particular interest in magic. I should think that suffering under the Fairy’s enchantment would make her entirely lose patience with it. Moreover, I should tell you that she is not at all fond of you. Or at least before her enchantment she was not, and it is not likely to have made her change her opinion.”

Mr Norrell said reluctantly, “If she would not wish to come here, we could visit her elsewhere. Frequently, though for short periods. She would not have to meet me at any point. You and I can be far enough apart to allow for that, I should think.” He was quite frightened at the idea of Jonathan being away from him for any length of time, in the company of Mrs Strange, while he hid himself elsewhere, but he would tolerate such a situation to please Mr Strange.

Mr Strange answered, “I suppose we could work something of the sort out, staying within the limits imposed by the magic. I certainly would want to check on her at intervals, as you say. Yet how could we communicate with her to arrange such meetings, once we travel to remote countries and even different worlds? I believe that regular visits would restrict our movements considerably." He blushed. “It sounds terribly selfish to complain about that, I know. But if we are truly destined to be the champions of John Uskglass’ magic, we bear a great responsibility.”

“ʽChampions of John Uskglass’ magic.’ I still cannot quite credit it. No, you are right, Mr Strange. If that is true, we cannot truly bind ourselves to anyone but him—and of course, each other. And that may sound terribly selfish of me, too, since you are the only one I truly wish to be with.”

“Not at all, Gilbert. I quite understand. But I would still ask that early in our travels we stop in Padua to allow me to speak directly to Arabella, if only for a brief time. To explain what we are doing. Though I am not entirely confident that I can make her understand. I really do not grasp it to any extent myself yet, given this extraordinary news from Childermass.”

Despite the two magicians’ declarations of love, Mr Norrell felt a little pang of fear at the idea of going to Padua, even for a short visit. Mrs Strange was, after all, quite good-looking and presumably charming and sociable and … and so much that he himself was not. He managed to answer calmly, “Of course. That is only reasonable. 

“And now, as to how we might make that trip to Padua, and beyond. Naturally I have been systematically going through Sutton-Grove, looking for possible bases for spells that I might devise. That is a long process, of course, but as I told you some days ago, I had already found some detaching spells that I believe will be effective. We have worked out exactly how deep into the earth we would need to go to include the cellars and how much of the surrounding grounds we would need to take. 

“The main problem is to harness the Darkness to the object, in order to provide the necessary force to transport it. As far as I can tell, the Darkness provides unimaginable power. It already spans the park and bridge over the river, so I imagine it could take the entire area along. And this afternoon I devised a way to link them. I remembered what you told me about the three spells the Fairy hurled at you in effecting his curse: an attacking flocks of birds—presumably ravens—a storm of dry leaves and a rain of blood. Researching the meanings of these things, I decided that he intended to inflict three things upon you: darkness, solitude and misery. 

“Initially the Darkness did inflict those things upon you. But the Fairy seems to have failed to word his curse in such a way that would have made you entirely helpless to escape all three of those horrible conditions. He did not make it impossible for you to be visited in the darkness, as we know from the facts that Drawlight did so in Venice and the servants and the occasional tradesman do now. Thus the solitude was in no way assured. And he did not immobilize you, since you were able to travel here from Venice via the Darkness. One might posit that the misery was not entire, since you could chuse where to be. He simply settled upon Venice as the place to send you because that was where you had successfully summoned him. 

“Only the Darkness seems to have been absolute, since it apparently is, as we have discussed, a small portion of Faerie. We cannot escape it, and yet John Uskglass has apparently altered its nature. Already we have learned how to manipulate the Darkness to our advantage to some considerable extent, and I think we may do so further.” He sighed with satisfaction. “Yes, the Fairy’s curse was quite slipshod from the beginning. To be fair, he may have composed it spontaneously and in great hurry and agitation when you unexpectedly arrived in Lost-hope.

“At any rate, fastening Hurtfew to the Darkness in a way that will mean we can travel in it is not all that great a challenge. I am sure that I can write such a spell relatively easily. The breakthrough came this morning. I finally found in Sutton-Grove a crucial and very complex spell. It solves the last great problem, the solution for which had been eluding me.”

“And that is?”

“Where to put Hurtfew when we reach our destination. I had thought of simply putting it in a large, open stretch of land. That, however, could raise complications, since such land naturally tends to be owned by someone and to be near populated areas. Of course if we then moved away from Hurtfew, the Darkness would follow us, and the house would be visible to all. We could prevent anyone from entering it by using magic, but still, it is not a good idea to have it be so conspicuous. At least in some situations.

“Second I thought of having Hurtfew hovering, but it would make it difficult for us to enter and leave it, let alone for others to pass through the arch and visit us. And it would be even more visible to others and cause more comment and consternation. The spell I have discovered, however, allows us to put the house and grounds down into an area of other buildings. It would exist in the same space but would be invisible to those already inhabiting that space.”

“Pardon? Do you mean that their lives would go on as usual and we would be in the same space, going about our own business—with neither they nor we able to see each other? That sounds remarkable.”

“It IS remarkable, but that is exactly what I mean.”

“Would the Darkness envelope these people’s homes—or whatever buildings we, um, put Hurtfew into?”

“They would not be aware of it, no. Only when they left their home and moved outside the Darkness would they be able to look back and see the Pillar. Because it really would be there, of course, but only surrounding Hurtfew. And if we moved away from Hurtfew, taking the Darkness with us, Hurtfew and its grounds would remain invisible. The only way to enter it would be, as now, through the Raven King’s arch.”

“I cannot quite picture all this.”

“No, it is rather conceptually, ah, dense. That particular spell was originally devised for military purposes, which is perhaps not surprising. Apparently an army was invisibly moved into the space occupied by the opposing troops. Once they were in position, the spell was lifted and the two sides fought together. The army using magic had the advantage of considerable surprise, as you might imagine, and it won the day. After that the spell was apparently forgotten, since the poor magician who devised it was among those killed that day. It was preserved, however, for I discovered it buried in a particularly obscure section of Sutton-Grove. The point is, it seems to me a skillfully prepared spell, and it has actually been used successfully in that one instance.

“As you may imagine, the three phases of the magic—detaching Hurtfew, moving it and placing it in a space already occupied—will require us to devise an enormously complex combinatory spell. I shall need to string together separate spells for the three phases and revise each very extensively to suit our peculiar circumstances and goals. Fortunately by now I have accumulated a huge quantity of notes complete enough that I can base the spell upon them with only minor compositions of passages to fit them together. The resulting text will need to be several pages long to include all the details, though it will grow even longer as we add revisions based on our initial tests. I must admit, I find this a most stimulating challenge.” He rubbed his hands in delight at the prospect.

Mr Strange was equally ebullient. “I hope I may be some help in composing it!”

“Oh, no doubt! I shall draft it, consulting you at every stage, and not move on to the next part until we are both thoroughly satisfied with what we have written.” He hesitated. “I think within a few days we might be ready to make some experimental journeys. Only short ones to begin with. Moving Hurtfew to a nearby field on my own estate perhaps. Then onward into the more isolated moors north of here. Inconspicuous spots, where we can probe whether this idea of merging Hurtfew undetectably with other structures actually works. There are certainly enough ruined castles and the like in Scotland to allow us to experiment without endangering any inhabitants Then we can try moving into a more populated area. A city, in fact.”

Mr Strange listened to all of this with growing wonder. He moved to hug Mr Norrell. “You are indeed a marvel! It’s true, we do work well together. As I have said, I conceive some mad scheme or other, and you calmly work out a brilliant way to achieve it!”

“Now, Mr Strange, I am sure that you will contribute considerably to the spell itself. But if we are truly going to begin putting our grand plan in motion, we must also make some final practical arrangements.” 

“Yes, we have rather abruptly come to the point where we must tell the servants about our travel plans and try and persuade at least some of them to accompany us. I had thought to better prepare them with some hints at what we were planning. Given that they are servants, they probably know far more about it than we suspect, but now I shall have to reveal the whole scheme to them. Childermass’ astonishing letter has certainly precipitated matters.

“I think with luck at least Lucas and Davey and maybe Mrs Greeley will go with us. Already those three seem remarkably happy to be working for us here in the Darkness, and maybe one of the maids will have the courage to go with us. We will need to buy supplies locally wherever we go, and that will entail a considerable amount of work. The small carriage will be of great help there. And before we depart we should finish stocking up on necessities in case we are stranded somewhere where shops and the like are not available nearby. Fortunately there are still several unused rooms that we can use for storage. But surely we can master such travels. Especially if we are meant to by John Uskglass himself,” he concluded happily.

Mr Norrell nodded. “Yes, that all seems quite desirable. I would say sensible, but this whole project hardly merits being called sensible. Not that I am complaining, mind you. So, I have written out my new will and shall send it to my solicitor. I must also provide my bank with a note of revolving credit so that Childermass may draw a salary and have access to money for expenses relating to his dealings with magicians. By the way, I have also decided to offer the large carriage and team to Childermass for similar purposes. It would be a loan, possibly permanent, though we might wish to have them back at some point.” 

“An excellent idea. It would be much better for those powerful horses to be getting some use and exercise rather than being out to pasture for the rest of their lives. By the way, please pass my best regards along to Childermass. Oh, and tell him I am most grateful that he never seduced his employer!”

Mr Norrell turned his head to look up at him, startled and incredulous.

“I am just teasing you, Gilbert. Teasing, you understand. Do not write any such thing!”

Mr Norrell sighed and shook his head indulgently, with a slight smile. He found that he enjoyed being teased by Mr Strange—provided that he understood when Mr Strange WAS teasing him. 

He asked, “Would you mind undertaking to make the household arrangements concerning the servants and supplies? You are so much better at that sort of thing than I am. A result of your wartime experience, I presume.”

“Yes, certainly. I shall offer another considerable increase in the salaries of the servants to persuade at least some of them to go with us. I can also order some additional supplies that it has occurred to me that we shall require. I have some business of my own as well. I must finally get around to legally settling my income upon Arabella. I shall write to my business manager and bank about that. In the meantime, you start composing that spell. I cannot wait to try it and to set out on travels that will bring us unimaginable new knowledge!” He glanced at the hourglass on the mantelpiece. “Well, after lunch that is. We only have a short time before the gong should sound.”

In that short time they laid out materials for the writing of the spell on the long central table, so that Mr Norrell could begin the composition of the spell directly after their meal. Hearing the distant gong, they went toward the door, but Mr Norrell put his hand on Mr Strange’s chest to stop him in the doorway. He leaned in to say softly, “To think that a mere three weeks ago we considered the Darkness to be a trap.”


	9. Traveling in the Darkness

THE TWENTIETH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT continued

As lunch ended, Mr Strange asked Lucas to meet him a half hour later for a discussion in the sitting room, since Mr Norrell needed complete silence while working in the library. There the big central table stood ready for his composition of the spell, with a small stack of blank paper, quills and ink, all surrounded by neat piles of notes held down with paperweights placed in their exact centres. Mr Norrell sat down to outline his ideas for the spell, but he frequently hopped up again, walking quickly around the room and pulling down books that might contain relevant passages. He looked quite excited and cheerful, muttering to himself as he worked. Mr Strange paused to watch him fondly for a short time before moving to the sitting room. He could have sworn that at one point he heard Mr Norrell humming a little tune softly.

Lucas was already in the sitting room, waiting for him with an inquiring look on his face. Mr Strange bade him sit down.

“Oh, no, Mr Strange, I couldn’t—ˮ

“Nonsense, Lucas, we need not be so formal. For a start, you are about to receive a promotion, if you will accept it.”

Lucas smiled slightly and edged over to a small sopha, seating himself gingerly on its edge. “A promotion, sir?”

Mr Strange sat down in an armchair opposite Lucas. “Yes. You have no doubt noticed that Mr Norrell and I have been making preparations for a major event to occur soon, one that will affect the lives of each and every one of us.”

“I have indeed, sir, and that has made me mighty curious—and the others as well. I do hope that you and Mr Norrell are not thinking to leave us.”

Mr Strange chuckled. “Well, that depends on you.” And he went on to describe the two magicians’ plans to take Hurtfew from its current location and travel about in it using the magic of the Darkness, after conducting some tests about how that could best be accomplished. Lucas seemed to follow everything he said fairly well, and he asked some intelligent questions at intervals.

Finally Mr Strange concluded, “We have been very happy with the staff and particularly with how you personally have helped us since the arrival of the Darkness. If you could see your way clear to going with us, Lucas, we would be extremely grateful. You and any of the rest of the staff whom you might be able to persuade to stay on. As to the promotion which I mentioned, Mr Norrell and I would like you to take over as our man of business, essentially replacing Mr Childermass. You would be in charge of the staff. I am sure that we shall encounter all sorts of logistical difficulties during our travels, and you will no doubt be a considerable help to us on such occasions. Once we are traveling, you would be responsible for overseeing the purchasing of supplies. You and the others would receive further rises in pay. Very generous ones, thanks to Mr Norrell.”

Lucas was much intrigued by the entire prospect, but he clearly had doubts as well. “Can you be sure that all this moving about in the Abbey would be safe, sir? I can’t urge the others to come along if there’s a chance of danger.”

“Mr Norrell is currently composing the spell that will make our travels possible, and as I think you will agree, his spells are all very carefully worked out. As you yourself pointed out, his very impressive magical schemes were a vital help during the wars. I myself have complete faith in his ability to make our plans work. And as I said, we will be making quite a few tests here in the north at first, in isolated places, before we try any serious traveling. Hurtfew Abbey will be thoroughly protected by magic—both the magic of the Darkness itself and of spells the two of us will place upon it. The entire area covered by the Darkness would be impossible for anyone or anything to invade, for example. And when Mr Norrell and I move away from Hurtfew and the Darkness follows us, the house and grounds will be entirely invisible except to those of you inhabiting them. If danger crops up once the two of us venture further away, it is only Mr Norrell and I who would face it.”

“Mr Norrell facing danger, sir?” Lucas asked with a skeptical look.

“Well, Mr Norrell and I have not told you about what happened after you and the others left on that day when the Darkness arrived. We did some very risky spells and succeeded with them. I would warrant that Mr Norrell is still afraid of spiders and the like, but ironically enough, facing down dangerous magic does not seem to worry him as much as it did. We even were visited, or I should say, contacted by the Raven King himself. We now strongly suspect that our fates are being guided by John Uskglass, a notion which has bolstered Mr Norrell’s confidence considerably.”

Lucas looked awestruck as he listened to this revelation and then nodded solemnly. “From hints Mr Childermass dropped, I sometimes wondered whether the Raven King might someday play a part in Mr Norrell’s life, whether Mr Norrell wanted that or no. So it has finally happened. I can’t say I am sorry to hear that, sir.” He sat a moment in thought and then asked, “Where are you planning to travel, sir, once these tests that you spoke of are over?”

“Our first trip abroad will be to Italy. Padua, specifically. I wish to visit my wife and discuss my situation with her.”

“Italy! I have wanted to go there for many years now. Would we be able to see some of the sights there, sir?”

“Well, there is nothing trapping you and the others in the Darkness, so yes, why not? You could take walks outside it as easily as you do here. And indeed, at night I suppose we are all free to wander about in the Darkness without being terribly conspicuous. I know that part of Italy fairly well, and I would happily serve as your guide. Do you wish to see Venice as well? It is not far from Padua. And it is quite an extraordinary experience to wander through its narrow, dim, labyrinthine streets by night. Pleasantly eerie, one might say.” Mr Strange grinned broadly. The whole prospect of traveling freely to such places was now becoming much more real to him, and he felt elated.

Lucas was also grinning with excitement by this point. “Oh, yes, sir! I have often felt that Mr Norrell’s dislike of travel abroad was a great pity. There are all sorts of places that I have read about and seen pictures of that I would love to visit. Davey does not have such yearnings, but I know he will go with me if I ask him. I think I could get him to be interested in such things once he sees them and I tell him something about them.”

“Excellent! Now if you can persuade Mrs Greeley and perhaps one of the maids …”

“I shall do my best, sir. Hannah is a game lass. She might take to the notion. Her cousin Daisy, not so much so, I think. She has a young man from the next village courting her, and she is not likely to want to leave. But even just the four of us could probably do for you and Mr Norrell, especially if you are willing to help out with some of the work at times. Oh, and if we are to be traveling about a great deal, could we stop back here once in a while so that we could visit our families?”

“I do not see why not. We might also have business to conduct here in England occasionally. We would definitely want to keep in touch with Mr Childermass. By the way, Lucas, it sounds as if you have had a remarkably good education.”

“My uncle was a schoolteacher, sir, and I enjoy reading. Mr Childermass has been kind enough to loan me some books from the library here. Not the books of magic, of course, but on history and art. I am fond of maps as well, like that old one hanging in the upstairs hallway near Mr Norrell’s bedroom. I know a bit about where some of these places we might visit are. And I followed the recent wars in the papers and learned something about parts of Europe. Like Portugal, where you were, sir.”

“I see. I am glad that we can give you the chance to visit some fascinating places in person. And I think you are right. With four servants and the two of us, we should manage quite well. Mr Norrell, I would have you know, learned to make toast during our first days here alone in the Darkness.”

Lucas chuckled. “Oh, well, sir, then we should get along just fine.” He assumed a more serious expression. “How soon do you and Mr Norrell plan on leaving, sir?”

“I would say within the next week. As soon as we can make the necessary preparations, and actually, many of those have already been made.”

“One more thing, sir. If any of us should change our minds and wish to return home, how easy would it be for us to do so?”

“Well, we can travel instantly from one place to another. We might be engaged in some sort of business far away, but once we finish that, we could return at once. But I hope that we might keep you all happy enough that you will only wish to visit home, not to remain there.”

“Very good, sir. I shall discuss it with the others this evening over supper. And thank you, sir, for the offer of the new position.”

Mr Strange spent the next few hours making an inventory of supplies and equipment that they had on hand and lists of items that they still might require. He also wrote some letters to settle his own remaining private business matters.

Late in the afternoon he returned to the library and found Mr Norrell kneeling at the fireplace and adding wood to the flames. Mr Strange crossed to the table and picked up the manuscript now sitting under a paperweight in the centre of the blotter. He saw that Mr Norrell had drafted the first part of the spell, covering about a page and a half in his small handwriting, with corrections and additions neatly indicated in the margins.

He turned to Mr Norrell. “So far it seems quite elegant. A trifle shorter, perhaps, than I expected, though it appears only to be about the first third or so.”

“About a third, yes. It is true that, as you know, ordinarily I do tend to like lengthy spells, with all possible contingencies covered in detail and with precision. I feel, however, that we should avoid including too many provisions in this one to begin with. If it becomes overly complex, flaws could creep in. It is essentially a draft which I envision needing to revise gradually as we make all the tests we have planned for each stage over the first few weeks. Once we know more about the functioning of the Darkness, we can be more assured in adding clarifying phrases. I expect that its final version will be distinctly longer.”

He remained standing by the now roaring fire, looking at Mr Strange expectantly. The other magician was somewhat at a loss, but he moved to join his lover. At once Mr Norrell stepped toward him and placed his hands against the front of his jacket.

“I am taking a break from writing, since it is fiendishly complicated work and requires extended concentration. I am quite pleased with the progress I have made so far.” He hesitated only briefly. “Besides, I feel that we have been so busy with our tasks that we have neglected each other. What with Childermass’ letter arriving yesterday and everything that we have worked on thereafter, we have not made love in such a long time.” He sighed glumly.

Mr Strange smiled down at him. It was not, after all, uncommon for lovers to occasionally skip a day in that regard, and he reckoned that it had only been about thirty hours since they last made love. Still, they had been physically intimate for the first time a mere week and a half earlier. Their desire for each other had only increased as time passed, and they had made love once or twice a day ever since. Both now felt the lack of sexual congress keenly, even after such a relatively short interval. Mr Strange also noted with delight that this was the first time Mr Norrell had entirely taken the initiative and expressed a desire for intimacy—and he had not stared down at the floor in doing so but had looked him in the face.

Mr Strange slipped his arms around Mr Norrell. They embraced and kissed slowly at first. Soon, however, their mouths were open, their lips merely brushing against each other, and their tongues swirling in a lascivious dance. (It was a form of kissing that Mr Norrell initially considered unsettlingly illogical but soon concluded was nevertheless immensely arousing.) Mr Norrell eventually released his tight hold on his lover and, moving forward, forced Mr Strange to retreat until the backs of his legs encountered the edge of the sopha. He sat down, and Mr Norrell knelt in front of him, pushing his knees wide. Mr Strange drew in a deep breath and stared down at him, his fingertips tracing his lover’s cheek. He felt overwhelmed with delight that Mr Norrell was increasingly taking the lead in their lovemaking, and he settled lower into the cushions, watching the other magician unbutton his placket and fold it down. 

Mr Norrell pushed the smallclothes down to reveal the top of the erection within. He leaned forward to lick and kiss it as he reached inside and lifted Mr Strange’s tight, full testicle sac out. He rolled and squeezed it gently as he traced his tongue up and down the high veins of the shaft.

Mr Strange keened softly and murmured, “You have become so good at that, my sweet Gilbert. It feels marvelous.”

Mr Norrell lingered over his attentions to the rock-hard member, teasingly flicking at the ridge on the underside with the hard tip of his tongue, sucking on loose skin of the shaft with clinging lips, and finally taking the crown into his mouth. He grasped the base of the cock and stroked it slowly as he moved up and down on the upper end. During all this he gazed up into Mr Strange's enraptured face, but at last his eyes slowly closed as he lost himself in the pleasure of caressing the erection with mouth and hand. He began to moan softly and put his free hand down to rub at the front of his own breeches. Mr Strange whimpered at the sight.

For long minutes the two drifted in bliss, as Mr Norrell tantalised his lover, keeping him just shy of tipping over into ecstasy. At last Mr Strange managed to say, “Please, I need it … Gilbert, harder!” 

Rather than sucking harder, Mr Norrell stopped briefly, sticking the middle finger of his right hand into his own mouth and wetting it before sliding it inside Mr Strange’s breeches, underneath his balls. Mr Strange realized what he was doing, and his hips writhed on the sopha as he tried to lower his breeches slightly, loosening them so that Mr Norrell’s hand could reach inside. Soon he felt the dampened finger slide into his cleft and find his puckered opening. It rubbed gently at the wrinkled flesh and then penetrated him. Mr Norrell had returned to sucking his member, taking him slightly deeper than he had before. His finger quickly found Mr Strange’s prostate and curled, with its end rubbing insistently over the firm little mound. At the same time, his swirling tongue pressed harder until Mr Strange felt his unbearably mounting tension tip effortlessly over into ecstatic waves surging through him. He groaned loudly, his stomach clenching and his body bending forward as spurts of hot fluid hit the back of Mr Norrell’s mouth. 

As usual, Mr Norrell swallowed his lover’s seed easily as Mr Strange’s face twisted in delight. Finally Mr Norrell released the shrinking member. He was so aroused that he slid up along Mr Strange’s body between his splayed thighs. He was writhing desperately against the larger body. He pressed his mouth against Mr Strange’s, thrusting his tongue deep into it. Mr Strange grimaced at tasting his own come in the kiss, but he opened to allow Mr Norrell’s tongue to plunder his mouth.

Mr Norrell grabbed his wrist and pulled it down to his breeches, wriggling and pulling in his stomach as he pushed his lover’s hand inside the waistband. Mr Strange cupped his fingers around the rock-hard erection within and began to squeeze it. Mr Norrell threw his head back, grimacing in need, and groaned, rutting frantically against the hand.

Mr Strange stopped squeezing and gasped out, “Wouldn’t you like to come in my mouth?”

Mr Norrell moaned in frustration. “I … I can’t bear to stop!” He kept thrusting against the hand inside his breeches, but Mr Strange suddenly withdrew it. Mr Norrell nearly sobbed in frustration and tried to keep rutting against his lover’s stomach. Mr Strange pushed him away, pivoting so that he could recline against the arm of the sopha, his legs stretched out along its length. He pulled and coaxed Mr Norrell to climb up and above him. As he moved clumsily onto his lover, Mr Norrell was struggling to undo his breeches’ placket. Finally, as he straddled Mr Strange’s chest, he managed to push his breeches and smallclothes down until his unbearably hard erection sprang out, bobbing in front of Mr Strange’s face.

Mr Strange gripped his buttocks and pulled him closer, until he could take the cock into his mouth. Mr Norrell was overcome with the heat and wetness of it, placing his hands on the sopha arm at either side of Mr Strange’s head. His toes slipped down into the gap between the sopha cushions, and his legs straightened, so that he was hovering above Mr Strange, struggling not to thrust into his mouth.

Suddenly he felt Mr Strange suck him deep, deeper than he ever had before. Mr Strange’s fingers sank almost painfully into Mr Norrel’s buttocks as he guided him to thrust gently. Mr Norrell clenched his teeth and tried to suppress his rapidly approaching climax as much as he could, but he barely managed to say, “I … ah, now!” before his bliss surged over him. He moaned in relief as his balls clenched and emptied in long, intense surges that caused bright flashes inside his closed eyelids.

As Mr Norrell’s climax slowly faded, he bent his knees and rested one elbow on the back of the sopha as he gasped for air. With his other hand he managed to pull out his handkerchief and offer it to Mr Strange. 

Mr Strange tossed it back against his chest and licked his lips. “For once, I do not need this. Somehow this position allowed me to take you deeper in. It took almost no effort at all to swallow your seed. I was actually going to try and do for you what you did for me—to put my finger inside you. You were so eager, however, that I did not even get the chance.” 

Mr Norrell slowly and carefully laid himself down on top of Mr Strange. He was completely limp, and Mr Strange was afraid that he would fall asleep very quickly. He shifted and put his hands on either side of Mr Norrell’s head, tilting it up to look into his face. Mr Norrell’s eyes opened.

“Gilbert, that was marvelous. When I was your pupil, you often complimented me on how quickly I learned about magic. Well, that was nothing compared to how quickly you have learned about such intimacies. Just now, I loved the way that you put your finger inside me without my suggesting it. Best of all, you needed me so very badly, and you are so passionate and … and you dazzle me! I love you so much!”

Mr Norrell smiled and laid his cheek against Mr Strange’s chest. “Mmm, Jonathan …” he murmured. “I love you, too.”

Mr Strange’s eyes widened, and he was about to say something, but he saw that Mr Norrell was already falling asleep. Carefully he eased out from under his lover. Once he was on his feet, he fastened the placket of his breeches and did the same for Mr Norrell. He rolled the older man until he was lying comfortably on his side along the sopha and unfolded a small lap blanket that was kept draped over the back of the sopha for when Mr Norrell felt the need of extra warmth. Mr Strange spread it over him and slid a pillow under his head. At the same time he removed Mr Norrell’s wig, which had managed to stay more or less in place during their recent activities, and set it on a small table nearby. He wondered if after Mr Norrell woke up he would revert to calling him ‘Mr Strange’, but at the moment he was so happy it did not really seem to matter. He clenched his teeth and stood for a short time watching his lover sleep before going back to the table to read over the partial draft of the spell more closely.

THE TWENTY-FIRST DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

At midday on March 7, Mr Norrell and Mr Strange cast their spell in the library. Lucas, Davey, Mrs Greeley and Hannah waited nervously in the large entry hallway of the house. Although a faint shudder passed through the building, accompanied by a soft thrumming sound as if a giant cello string had been plucked, nothing seemed to have changed. The two magicians looked solemnly at each other and went out to join the servants.

Lucas licked his lips and asked, “Have you done your spell, sirs?”

Mr Strange nodded. “Lucas, if you would be so kind as to go out to beyond the archway and report to us what you see there, we would both be most grateful.”

Lucas turned to go but signaled to Davey to accompany him. The two left Hurtfew. Mr Norrell sat in an uncomfortable straight chair against the wall and hugged himself tensely as he waited, while Mr Strange conversed softly with Mrs Greeley and Hannah, hoping to calm both them and himself. Ten minutes slowly passed, then fifteen.

At last the door opened and Lucas walked in, followed by Davey. Mr Norrell stood up, and the two magicians stared at Lucas. He was pale and breathing hard. For a moment he seemed unable to speak and then nodded abruptly with a dawning smile. “Everything is different out beyond the arch. The road is gone. There are fields all around us, but the river is nowhere to be seen, and there is a little stand of trees in a valley that I do not recognize and … some sheep … hedgerows … a little farmhouse and barn about a mile off. Mr Smeaton’s farm, it may be. We are someplace else!”

Mrs Greeley and Hannah stared at him and took a few steps toward the door. They stopped and looked back at Mr Strange and Mr Norrell. Mr Strange smiled at them. “Yes, do go and see it with your own eyes. Lucas, Davey, go with them and show them. Show them that the magic works and that it is safe and that … we shall all experience extraordinary things if you stay with us!” he concluded in a gush of enthusiasm.

After the four had gone out and closed the door, Mr Norrell and Mr Strange turned and embraced tightly. With their arms around each other’s waists, they moved back into the library and sealed its door closed with magic, sitting on the sopha side by side, quietly. 

That evening, masters and servants assembled in the dining room for a celebratory dinner that Mr Strange had optimistically ordered the day before. This included several bottles of Mr Norrell’s favorite claret. At the end of the meal, Mr Strange announced that there were more investigations to be made over the next day or two before they moved the Abbey again, and the spell would need to be revised accordingly. Nevertheless, all were elated over the prospect of further wonders that would soon unfold.

After dinner Mr Strange entertained the others with some impressive bits of magic, and eventually even Mr Norrell was persuaded to cast a few spells that mystified and delighted them all. Ordinarily Mr Norrell was so reluctant to perform magic for such casual purposes that none of the servants had ever witnessed any of his magic directly. Their exclamations of wonder caused Mr Norrell to look around at them in surprise, and he smiled and nodded as they applauded at the end of the show. 

Mr Strange realized that somehow that day had knit them into a little group of people who sensed at last the marvels that lay before them. He watched with delight as Mr Norrell talked briefly with the servants before the group dispersed for the evening. At one point he overheard Mr Norrell explaining to Mrs Greeley why a silver bowl was the most basic piece of equipment for a magician, while she pointed out to him why such a thing would not be practical in cookery. Clearly the man had never socialized with any of them before, and yet he seemed to find it easier to talk with them than with the socialites whose company he had long endured in London.

As the little party began to break up, Mr Strange drew Lucas briefly aside and said, “Thank you for helping to persuade the others to embark with us on this extraordinary adventure. I think we have a marvelous team who will get along very well.” He paused as they saw Mr Norrell nearby, assuring Hannah that the much-repeated story of him purportedly washing the linen of Yorkshire housewives was in fact a fabrication and that her services for such purposes at Hurtfew was most necessary and valued.

Mr Strange winked at Lucas and said, “Well, you see what I mean.”

LATE MARCH, ABOUT FIVE WEEKS AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT  


For two weeks the magicians had been moving Hurtfew Abbey from place to place in the barren moors of northern England and southern Scotland. After the first trial, when they had put the Abbey down on rolling farmland, they transported it onto rockier terrain. They spent a couple of days in each location, with the servants buying fresh food in nearby villages and the magicians walking about to learn if there were any limits to where the Darkness would follow them. Apart from minor cleaning, shopping, cooking, and waiting at table, the servants had less to do than usual, and something of a holiday atmosphere began to prevail. They took walks to see local sights and have picnics. Mr Norrell was again inclined to fret about this a little, but Mr Strange pointed out that keeping the servants happy was the best way to retain them in this very peculiar situation. Besides, Mr Norrell had to admit that he could think of little to keep them busier than they were. It had quickly become apparent that travel by Darkness was comfortable, being instantaneous and not involving any rumbling or whirling or other imagined magical effects. Any fears that the prospect might have caused the staff were soon forgotten.

During this pleasant period, Mr Norrell and Mr Strange found time to do some reading about the possible worlds they might visit in the near future. Mr Strange discovered an intriguing passage in a book about Celtic naiads and suggested that their association with fresh-water wells, springs, streams and so forth might have some connection with the King’s Roads. Could it also have anything to do with the portion of the Hurt River that was now accompanying Hurtfew Abbey and its park? Would summoning a local naiad for help be less dangerous than summoning a Fairy? This idea so much intrigued the two that they spent a great deal of time researching it and discussing it. It was only one of a number of topics that diverted them from their more apposite studies.

After a few days the magicians began to experiment with having the house occupy the same space as other buildings. The plan was to place Hurtfew down upon three ruined castles in a row. 

In the first case, the magicians simply moved the Abbey into the space of one such ruin overnight and then removed it a short distance away the next morning. Lucas and Davey walked back to the castle and returned with a report that it was still standing, apparently without a single stone having been displaced during the twelve hours it shared its space with a large house occupied by several people.

For the second test using a castle, some of the livestock from Hurtfew were taken and tied inside one of its rooms. The Abbey was placed in the same space as the castle and then moved away. To everyone’s relief, the animals were also unaffected by the procedure.

The third test was supposed to involve Hurtfew setting down in the same space as a castle occupied by humans. The question was, who should they ask to stay in the castle? People hired locally?

Mr Strange hesitated. “I have to say, it is one thing to use animals in such a test but quite another to do it with people.”

Mr Norrell replied, “I am absolutely sure that the effect would be no different for people than it was for our cow and pig. I would be quite confident volunteering to occupy the castle myself if that were possible, but of course the two of us are not only trapped in the Darkness but we must be here to cast the spell.”

Lucas, who now spent part of his time in the library doing his work as the new man of business, listened to this conversation and spoke up. “I will do it for you, sirs. I have no fears at all that the spell would not work as before. Davey and I could camp out there for the night.”

Mr Norrell smiled at him. “I quite agree with you, Lucas. I really do not see what could go wrong. All our other tests have been successful. Doubtless tomorrow morning you both will return to us completely unscathed.”

Mr Strange hesitated before saying, “Lucas, if you are sure you wish to do this for us and are willing take Davey with you, we would both be very grateful. I would feel much better if someone who knows what he is getting into could be the one to undertake this test. Thank you!”

For a third time, Hurtfew was placed a short distance from a ruined castle. Lucas and Davey went and set up some camping equipment in one of the roofless rooms and lit a fire. Hannah went with them, carrying their evening meal. Once the two men were ensconced in the castle, Hannah returned to Hurtfew to report that they were in place. The two magicians then moved Hurtfew to the location where the castle stood. 

The next morning they took it away again, sending Hannah to inform Lucas and Davey that the house was no longer “on top of them,” as she put it.

Upon the group’s return, Lucas joined the two magicians in the library to describe the events of the night. They sat on the sopha by the fireplace, and he, after a moment’s hesitation, sat in a nearby chair.

Lucas said, “After Hannah left, nothing seemed to happen. We waited to see if there was any sign of the Abbey, but there was none, not a ghost of a one. I wondered if the strange stars would appear above us, but that did not happen either. I assumed that Hurtfew was there, right alongside us, so to speak, but one would never know it. Mr Norrell, sir, it reminded me of the time you walked through the dining-room wall that day when Mr Strange arrived, though that, of course, I saw with my own eyes. Two things in the same place.”

“Did I really? Good Lord!” Mr Norrell turned to Mr Strange. “I had my eyes closed at the time and did not even notice.”

“So that is how you managed to get through my labyrinth. Ha! I should quite like to have seen you walking through a wall! Perhaps we should make a habit of it.”

“Really, Mr Strange, it would be a very elaborate procedure to arrange such a thing to be possible even once, and to make it commonplace would require us to spend more time than we should in setting up a comparable pathway through Hurtfew that would require us to walk through walls. Moreover-ˮ

Mr Strange pulled Mr Norrell against himself and kissed him briefly to cut short the lecture. “Really, Gilbert, I was just teasing you. Though I would not mind seeing you perform such a feat once.”

Mr Norrell blushed bright pink. Although he knew that Lucas was aware of his relationship with Mr Strange, the two had never before demonstrated such intimacy in front of him. He was relieved that Lucas had diplomatically looked away.

Now Lucas grinned and asked, “Sirs, now that you know your magic has worked, where might we be off to next?” He was clearly delighted at the prospect that they would soon be traveling greater distances and seeing more exciting places than the bleak moors they had been confined to so far.

Mr Strange replied, “Well, we have not made a final decision yet, but we want to put the house into the midst of some city or other. We shall let you know what we decide.”

After Lucas went out to return to his work, Mr Strange stood to pace while Mr Norrell remained sitting on a sopha, both considering the various cities they had mentioned over the past few days as possibilities.

Mr Strange broke the silence. “If we were to vote, I should chuse Edinburgh. I loved it when as a boy I visited my cousins there, and I would love to show you the city.”

Mr Norrell considered for a moment. “Yes, the dramatic hills and valleys there would provide intriguing information about how Hurtfew would fit into such a landscape. I suppose we could place it over the Castle. The sight of a great pillar of darkness enveloping that familiar and dramatic summit surely would make a fine engraving to illustrate the newspaper items that would result.”

“Oho, so you think this is the appropriate time to announce ourselves to the world. I know we had discussed that--”

“Well, Mr Lascelles was always at pains to impress upon me the need to capture the public’s imagination with a dramatic use of magic. I do not consider that it is always appropriate to do so, but sometimes it is no doubt necessary. As you and I have agreed, at some point we must let the world know that we are alive and well and that we have this extraordinary power to move about via magic. If we visit Edinburgh, extensive coverage in the newspapers there is sure to be picked up by those in London and perhaps even abroad. Whatever the Raven King’s plans for us may be, we want potential friends and foes to be aware of our power.”

“Yes, we must keep contact with the outside world, or worlds, or how are we to learn where and when our powers might be needed?”

“Exactly.”

Mr Strange gave him a calculating look. “Gilbert, when we put Hurtfew down in Edinburgh, might we herald our arrival with a thunderstorm?”

Mr Norrell looked at him with a little frown. “Why in the world would you want to draw attention to us in such a fashion? A Pillar of Darkness is hugely impressive in itself, and surely it is THAT upon which we wish journalists and their readers to focus their attention.”

“But think of the drama! The Darkness moves in complete silence, but we could herald its arrival with a fanfare of thunder! And if in future we should find ourselves confronting dangerous magical creatures in some exotic world, we would want to be even more impressive than usual. Would we not? Please, just as a test of something that might be useful in the future?”

He sat down beside Mr Norrell on the sopha and embraced him, nuzzling against his neck and placing gentle kisses there and on his ear. 

“Mr Strange, you cannot use such tactics to persuade me to employ frivolous magic!” Mr Norrell struggled to pull away, but Mr Strange held him closely.

“Oh, can’t I now? We shall see about that,” he said softly, resuming his kisses. His hand slid down Mr Norrell’s chest and onto his stomach, moving toward his breeches. A lively little struggle ensued, accompanied by muffled laughter, until Mr Norrell finally succeeded in breaking free and sliding backward a short way along the sopha. The clothing of each magician was noticeably disarranged by this point, and Mr Norrell’s wig was askew. He straightened it as Mr Strange chuckled sheepishly. They sat looking at each other with foolish, thoroughly besotted expressions.

Mr Norrell’s astonishment that he finally had this beautiful man all to himself resurfaced, as it did several times each day. Staring tenderly into his face, he had to admit to himself that he seldom found it possible to resist indulging his lover’s whims—except the particularly ludicrous or risky ones. And after all, he reflected, Mr Strange in turn indulged most of his own, far more reasonable, whims quite graciously.

“All right,” he conceded, stretching to grasp Mr Strange’s hand. “Just a small thunderstorm, mind you. You must write the spell yourself and let me revise it if necessary. After all, we do not wish to gain a reputation for causing floods.”

“No, that would certainly not be respectable.”

[To be concluded with an epilogue]


	10. Epilogue: Overhearing a Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended this fic to have nine chapters and an epilogue, but there seems to be no way to post in this fashion. So now there are ten parts, the last of which is an epilogue.

AN EVENING IN APRIL 1817, ROUGHLY A MONTH AFTER HURTFEW ABBEY AND THE DARKNESS DISAPPEARED FROM YORKSHIRE

Mr Norrell sat in the Darkness on a bench near the dark stone archway that still formed the only entrance into the park of Hurtfew. A single candle burned in a small glass bell, just enough for him to see to read a book he had brought along. Mr Strange had left him a few minutes before and was waiting in the archway for Mrs Strange. Mr Norrell had set aside the book as soon as he was gone. Now he was slowly wringing his hands, a habit that reflected when he was feeling frightened or anxious. He had not done it for nearly two months now.

Mr Strange had sent Mrs Strange a number of letters since the initial one telling her of his safety and of the conditions in which he and Mr Norrell were living at Hurtfew. He had sent these letters from the various places they had visited in testing their system of travel, and he had hinted that he would visit her soon in Padua—perhaps within weeks. Despite his nervousness, Mr Norrell smiled at the memory of having had to remind Mr Strange to send the most recent one. The younger man had been too preoccupied with his research and preparations to remember.

Despite such signs of Mr Strange having no intention of returning to his wife, Mr Norrell was terrified at the prospect of this first face-to-face meeting. Would seeing Mrs Strange after such a long separation rekindle her husband’s love? Would Mr Strange rejoin him afterwards, only to declare himself once more determined to find a way to dispel the Darkness? Would he once more long to break the enchantment that forced him to stay close to his lover? Suddenly he heard distant footsteps and rose to walk closer to the archway, the better to listen to the couple’s conversation. He stopped behind a tree within easy earshot of their voices.

Mr Norrell heard Mrs Strange remarking with surprising calmness, “You have not brought a thunderstorm with you this time.”

Mr Strange responded, “Oh, you heard about that, did you?” He laughed briefly in embarrassment. Mr Norrell smiled again despite his worries, imagining the look on his lover’s face. Mr Strange continued, “That was a little overdone perhaps. Not altogether in the best of taste. I believe I spent too much time in Lord Byron’s society when I was in Venice. I caught something of his style.”

Mr Norrell thought back to the moment when he had told Mr Strange that he thought the thunderstorm unnecessary and then agreed to allow him to try it. The romantic interlude that had followed had been most pleasant, and memories of it bolstered his hope that Mr Strange would carry through on his vow to leave Mrs Strange for good. 

The sound of Mr Strange’s voice diminished, and Mr Norrell realized that the two had begun to walk—not directly away, but in an arc around the spot where Mr Strange assumed Mr Norrell was waiting. He followed silently.

Mr Strange spoke again. “You look well, Arabella. I feared … What did I fear? Oh! A thousand different things. I feared you would not speak to me. But here you are. I am very glad to see you.”

His tone was awkward, and although Mr Norrell did not know much about such things, he doubted that this was a very romantic conversation between a married couple who had been kept apart for so long and by very dramatic circumstances. “That is certainly not the way he speaks to ME,” he thought, and his nervousness again diminished slightly.

Mrs Strange replied, “And now your thousand fears can be laid to rest. At least as far as they concern me. Have you found any thing yet to dispel the Darkness?”

Mr Norrell frowned anxiously. This was it, the moment when Mr Strange might promise to spend all his future efforts in the search for a way to break the enchantment. He might declare that he would return to her at all costs and as soon as possible. He held his breath in order to catch every word.

“No, not yet. Though, to own the truth, we have been so busy recently—some new conjectures concerning naiads—that we have scarcely had time to apply ourselves seriously to the problem. But there are one or two things in Goubert’s GATEKEEPER OF APOLLO which look promising. We are optimistic.”

Mr Norrell resumed breathing. He was safe! Mr Strange had as much as admitted to Mrs Strange that his conversations with his old teacher were more important to him than returning to her was. That naiad discussion had already occupied them for some time, during intervals between preparations for their next journey via the Darkness, and by now they each had a stack of books which they had resolved to read in further exploring the issue. It was only one of many topics on the vast list he was compiling, containing many such subjects that he might raise if Mr Strange unexpectedly showed an inclination to work too diligently to free himself and Mr Norrell from the Darkness. Many little slips of paper now marked intriguing passages in books, which he could pull down at any time and call to Mr Strange’s attention. Really, though, he had so far had no need of them, and he suspected that he never would. Frequently enough either of the two magicians would spontaneously raise an interesting point, and the other would respond eagerly. Mr Strange’s imagination was so readily ignited, and they often sat talking for hours before realizing that they were neglecting their more immediate research.

Mr Norrell listened to learn what Mrs Strange would say in response to Mr Strange’s startling admission.

“I am glad. I am miserable when I think of you suffering.”

Mr Norrell seemed to detect a coldness in her voice and hoped he was not being too optimistic in thinking so.

Mr Strange apparently did not notice any such thing. He responded, “Do not be miserable, I beg you. Apart from any thing else, I do not suffer. A little perhaps at first, but not now. And Norrell and I are hardly the first English magicians to labour under an enchantment. Robert Dymoke fell foul of a fairy in the twelfth century and thereafter could not speak but only sing—which, I am sure, is not so pleasant as it sounds. And there was a fourteenth-century magician who had a silver foot—which must have been very disagreeable. Besides who is to say that the Darkness may not be of advantage to us?”

Mr Norrell was becoming more and more delighted as he listened. He and Mr Strange had come to see the Darkness as a vast and powerful aid to their explorations of magic, gifted to them by John Uskglass, but how marvelous it was to hear his lover admitting so frankly to Mrs Strange that the Darkness was an advantage! And he noted with further pleasure that Mr Strange had certainly been learning a great deal about magical history from the books he had recommended recently. He had cited some quite obscure but significant examples of magical enchantments.

Mr Strange went on, “We intend to go out of England and are likely to meet with all sorts of tricksy persons. An English magician is an impressive thing. Two English magicians are, I suppose, twice as impressive—but when those two English magicians are shrouded in an Impenetrable Darkness—ah, well! That, I should think, is enough to strike terror into the heart of any one short of a demi-god!”

Mr Norrell gasped. He could have hoped for nothing better. What in the world could Mrs Strange possibly assume when she heard her husband speaking about traveling the globe with a colleague rather than concentrating on returning to her? 

There was a short silence, and Mrs Strange asked, definitely speaking quite coldly now, “Where will you go?”

Mr Strange said quite cheerfully, “Oh, there are plenty of places. This world is only one among so many, and it does not do for a magician to become too—what shall I say?—too parochial.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing about returning to her! On the contrary, as Mr Strange had promised him, all his plans involved the two magicians together—together in the Darkness. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed away tears of relief and delight.

There was a long pause, as if Mrs Strange could think of no reply to this. Finally she said, “But will Mr Norrell like it? He was never fond of travelling—not even as far as Portsmouth.”

Mr Norrell froze at hearing her mention him. It was ironical that Mrs Strange should be at all concerned about his preferences. Clearly she had no inkling that he was Mr Strange’s lover—and a major cause keeping him away from her. Mr Norrell felt a little sorry for her. Really, as he had always thought, it was a pity that Mr Strange had ever married in the first place.

Mr Strange did not seem to notice the continuing chilliness of her responses. “Ah! But that is one of the advantages of our particular mode of travel. He need never leave the house if he does not wish it. The world—all worlds—will come to us.” There was a pause, and the sound of footsteps ended, “I had better not go further. Norrell is a little way off. For various reasons to do with the enchantment, it is best that we do not stray very far from each other. Arabella, it hurt me more than I could bear to think of you under the earth. I would have done any thing—any thing at all—to fetch you safely out.”

There was greater warmth in her voice as she replied, almost too softly for Mr Norrell to hear, “And you did it.”

There was a long silence, and Mr Norrell began to wonder if he had rejoiced too soon. The terrible thought crossed his mind that she might offer to join her husband in the Darkness. To travel with them on all these marvelous adventures. What a disaster that would be! He began to wring his hands again.

“One day,” Mr Strange said, “I shall find the right spell and banish the Darkness. And on that day I will come to you.”

“Yes. On that day. I will wait until then.”

Mr Norrell was horror-struck. Mrs Strange had not offered to come with Mr Strange, but after all Mr Strange’s talk about traveling the world in the Darkness, he had essentially promised to try by any means to rejoin her! Was he changing his mind? His heart beat faster at the thought. His old difficulty in crediting the notion that Mr Strange could have come to love his former teacher more than his beautiful wife resurfaced. Any hint that Mr Strange might want to return to her still seemed all too frighteningly plausible to him.

Strange spoke again, quite tenderly. “Bell, do not wear black. Do not be a widow. Be happy. That is how I wish to think of you.”

“I promise. And how shall I think of you?”

Mr Strange laughed. “Think of me with my nose in a book!”

Mr Norrell was too desolated to take much comfort in that. Mr Strange would come back to him now, of course. Under the enchantment, he had no choice. But for how long? He was tempted to run away from the voices, to run until he reached the end of the enchantment’s invisible leash, which would jerk Mr Strange instantly back to his side. But if Mr Strange was determined to leave, what good was that in the long term?

There was a silence, and Mr Norrell suspected that the couple were kissing. Then he heard footsteps coming toward him, and he hurried back to the bench where Mr Strange had left him. The candle in its glass bell was still burning, and he quickly picked up his book and opened it, feeling utterly miserable.

When Mr Strange reached him, Mr Norrell could not bring himself to speak but looked up at him expectantly. Mr Strange smiled slightly but said nothing. He stood thinking, staring at the gravel of the driveway, for a long time. Mr Norrell could barely refrain from crying out, from questioning his lover. Was he truly resolved to break the enchantment and return to Mrs Strange? He could not imagine what he would do if parted from Mr Strange. Life would be so empty. And even if they could never find a way to escape the Darkness, would his lover always be pining for Mrs Strange?

Finally Mr Strange shrugged. “Well, that is over. I feared that she might be angry with me, but I believe she already suspected that I would not be returning to her anytime soon. If ever.” He paused before saying in a low voice, “I have treated her very badly, I suppose.”

Relief flooded over Mr Norrell. Secretly he had to agree that Mr Strange had indeed to some extent treated his wife badly. He had given her false hope, though overall his words had been quite contradictory. Mr Norrell could not reveal that he had listened to the conversation, so he could not comfort his lover. He longed for Mr Strange to say something reassuring about the two of them.

Fortunately Mr Strange continued. “I’m afraid I did not explain it very well to her. Naturally I was quite nervous, face-to-face with her that way. Good God, I told her that I would keep trying to escape the Darkness and be with her again! I just could not bring myself to say outright to her face that I will never be returning to live with her.” He ran his hand agitatedly through his curls, which by this point were beginning to be quite shaggy again. “I shall have to make it all clearer in future correspondence. It really would be better for her to give up on me and remarry. At least she has the Greysteels to support her. They have been marvelous. And of course she will have ample access to my income to allow her to live quite well and travel if she wishes.” 

That was plain enough! If Mr Strange was willing to have Mrs Strange remarry, there could be no chance of the two being reunited, ever. Mr Norrell’s face lit up with the improbably sweet smile that always touched Mr Strange so much. Mr Strange looked down at him and returned the smile, stepping closer. He took his hands, pulled him to his feet, and embraced him tightly.

Mr Strange murmured into Mr Norrell’s ear, “Ah, well, it is really for the best. After all, SHE is not magical.”


End file.
